


Professional Pitfall Escapist

by seademons



Series: Same Universe, Different Stories [1]
Category: Hiveswap, Homestuck
Genre: Absent Parents, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bad Parenting, Happy Ending, M/M, Past Character Death, Past Relationship(s), References to Depression, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2019-01-07 10:41:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 34,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12231216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seademons/pseuds/seademons
Summary: Sometimes, he thought, if he could, he wouldn’t have left Dirk behind.Based on the fact that Joey's father seems to be an absent bastard, more so after the death of his wife, leaving the children to be raised by their sitter while he adventures in the wilderness. Not set in-canon of the game or the comic, just my imagining of the thought: instead of giving up on his happiness, his children, everything; what if Jake had seeked reconciliation from Dirk? Expect a lot of pining, buried feelings, and very outdated British vocabulary.





	1. Preface: Winchester

**Author's Note:**

> The first Act of Hiveswap had me itching to write for this pairing and my humble return to the literary world of Homestuck for literally only a week is already becoming a cascade of headcanons.

Warm afternoon light filtered in through the clear glass panels of the back door, touching the expensive wooden floors about halfway into the living room, and highlighting the repugnant Peruvian rug that laid haphazardly before it, nearly touching the foot of the armchair where he sat. Pensive, brooding, nursing a cigar. That awful rug was about six years old, now. They had gotten it for cheap from an old vendor in downtown Cusco, when the sun was just about to set, and Claire had just realized to have forgotten her peshtemal. She had bought the rug for a few coins, and they had both carried it up the hill to watch the sunset on. Six years ago. She had been so beautiful, then. Lively, young, excited for what life had yet to offer them. He had been so happy, too.

Ash dropped from the end of the cigar, so he tapped it onto the ashtray. Another long drag, and his attention was redirected to the garden just outside, the sun slowly hiding itself behind the tallest bushes in the distance. His breathing came as an exhale, long, and deep, until there was no more air within his lungs to be expelled. He breathed in again, shallow.

He missed her.

The short, sturdy glass in his left hand was warm under his fingers, the ice had completely melted into the scotch by now. He sipped it, absently, and decided not to sip from it again. Warm scotch was disgusting. He’d soon forget about that, though, not a second from now, and would end up finishing the glass before night fell, just as he had done the day before. And the day before that. And everyday since the sitter had gone on vacations.

Joey ran into the room just as he put the empty glass down.

“Pa!” She shouted, voice shrill, polrumptious, and much too loud. It made him cringe. “Pa, Pa! I’ve found a friend!”

“Joey, dear, you’re under a roof. Use your inside voice, don’t run, all of that.”

He hoped to have kept the growing vexation out of his tone.

His daughter obeyed immediately. The pitter-patter of her naked feet slowed to a walk as she continued to approach, silent now, but still with a big, doofy smile plastered on her face. She brought him a fat frog.

“Pa, I’ve found a friend.” She repeated. He eyed the amphibian in her tiny hands with distaste.

“You certainly have.”

“May I show her to Jude?”

“Jude is asleep, sweetheart. Don’t wake him, now. Take the friend outside before dinner.”

“But I want to keep her.”

He wrinkled his nose some, trying not to let his aversion show too much. Joey didn’t notice. Her dark eyes watched him in pleading, her lips tugged into a comical frown to further her point. The attempt at catering to his emotional side failed horribly, and wasn’t the reason why he let her keep the atrocity indoors. He was simply too beyond caring, at this point, to waste the first drop of energy into explaining to her the fine reasonings as to why one shouldn’t keep a frog away from large bodies of freshwater. He put the cigar out on the bottom of the ashtray.

“Sure, leave her in the bathroom.” His voice was monotone as he put the ashtray aside and got up from his seat. Joey hugged his knees to show her appreciation, shouting a quick thank you as she did it. That worsened his vexation, made him feel incredibly limpsey all of a sudden, and the thought of having to cook dinner for the three of them tonight left him quite woozy.

Actually, that last one might’ve been the alcohol. When would the sitter be back, again? He couldn’t take this much longer. She had been away for so long, now. Days had melted into nights that had melted into afternoons, and dusks, and dawns, turning the passage of time into a long, continuous stretch of day-drinking, night-drinking, morning-drinking, etc. He didn’t know what day of the week it was at this point. They all felt like Mondays inside the dark walls of the manor, but that couldn’t be right.

He patted the top of Joey’s head as she let go, and meandered over to the kitchen, to reheat the first thing in the fridge. They hadn’t had an actual meal in days. The kids didn’t mind takeout as often as they were having it, to make up for his lack of skills with an oven, but he, himself, couldn’t possibly take the sight of another pizza for the next year. The stacked boxes from last night, or today’s lunch, or dinner three days ago, piled up atop the lid of the trash bin, was nauseating to look at. He nudged a trash bag aside with the heel of his Berluti and pulled the fridge open.

If they had half of a single milk carton coloring the whiteness that was the chilly guts of this fridge, then they were in luck, considering just how long he had gone without grocery shopping. He took the carton, and brought it to his nose. Nevermind, they weren’t in luck at all. The grocery called to him in the back of his mind like a pounding headache, and filed itself under _other: responsibilities._ He was exhausted. If he had known that taking care of oneself would be so difficult, he wouldn’t have kept the children. He wasn’t sure just how he had managed to look after them in such unsafe living conditions for over a year.

“Joey?” He called, tiredly, putting the spoiled milk into one of the open trash bags that littered the kitchen floor. “Come take the trash out with Pa.”

His daughter showed up a minute later, just as he had finished tying a nearly-overflowing bag securely closed. With the amount of trash bags piled up in the corner, and spilled out across the floor, they’d have to do a double trip. Maybe even triple. What a mess.

Life at home had decayed so embarrassingly fast ever since Claire had passed that he honestly, truly doubted whether he could actually keep playing father right, the way that she would’ve wanted him to. Or, who was he kidding? He probably couldn’t even keep playing father at all, not like this. Shouldn’t even have been qualified for it, shouldn’t have considered it in the first place. Joey had been a surprise, and Claire had been so ecstatic, so blown away with the news, that he had thought it a good one, too, at the time. The two of them, making a tiny family together. It finally felt as if they had been doing life right. Everywhere they traveled, people complimented on the looks of their little family, how much Joey looked like him, but had her mother’s dark eyes, and dark curls, framing her chubby baby face. It put a wide smile on his face, every time, because this, he thought. This was his. This family, this wife, this baby. All his. He had made this, and was being praised for it. Everything had seemed great, perfect; life on the right track.

Four years later, Jude made an appearance. Another one for their growing train ride. Claire had been gobsmacked with the news, but this time around, the pregnancy really took a toll on her, and rather quick, too. For nine months, she had been the strongest woman that he had ever known, and then, just like that, the minute Jude was born, she became as weak as a sheet of paper. Pallid, and thin. Almost too fragile to move. The doctors weren’t quite sure of what she had contracted, but the complications had been obvious. She wouldn’t last long, and she didn’t. Bedridden, she passed almost a year later.

Now, this. This void, this pointlessness, because, suddenly, this wasn’t fun anymore. He didn’t like to be playing this game alone, singlehandedly ruining the childhood of his children, playing the inapt father. Absent at best. He hated it, his own inability to make it right. It made him sick with himself. His only consolation was the fact that Joey, however much she still missed her mother, still looked to be happy, most of the time. She was a survivor, through and through, and why couldn’t Jake be more like her? He heaved. The trash bags were full to the brim, and heavier than they seemed to be.

Since Claire was no more, each passing day felt worse, heavier, more demanding than the last, and he was getting tired. Breathing alone took a toll on him, and looking after the children drained him like nothing else. It was the anxiety; the constant state of fear that he lived in just making sure that his children lived to see the day through. It was simple, really: keep them breathing, keep them alive. What parent couldn’t do that? Yet, sometimes, he found himself in such a state that the jolt back to reality was horrifying. Had he accidentally skipped dinner? Had this unplanned kip in the middle of the morning been longer than it should have? Where was Joey, Jude? Were they safe, had they eaten? When was the last time that _he_ had eaten? He had lost twenty-five pounds ever since Claire had passed, and his liver was probably in hazardous working conditions, his lungs in jeopardy. For over twenty years, he mundled through taking care of his own damn self, so how did she think he could raise children without her? How could she have looked him dead in the eye and said that he was a good father? He felt nauseous. Could faint any minute, now.

It was ridiculous to believe that he was only twenty-nine, because he felt to be a hundred years older, and, yet, it was true. He wasn’t even thirty, and his life had already peaked, now this could only be rock-bottom. He heaved through the lifting of the bags into the bin outside, cringed at the disgusting, slapping-wet noise that they made when hitting the bottom, and turned to follow Joey back inside for another round.

This was what his life had been reduced to. Exhaustedly dragging himself through joyless, mundane tasks that left him more drained than before. Minutes turned into hours, hours turned days, and days felt like years. He lived a whole year in under half an hour, it felt like. Experienced dozens of unpleasant, tiring, detestable emotions in a matter of minutes, that left him thinking too much, regretting too much, drinking too much. Wanting to hit reset on some choices and start over.

Sometimes, he thought, if he could, he wouldn’t have left Dirk behind.

It wasn’t that he missed him. He hadn’t even thought about Dirk Strider in years, in all of the years that he had spent married to Claire, but since she was gone, now, and loneliness crawled under his skin like a mite… Sure, every once in a while, he thought of Dirk Strider again. It’d be lying to say that he didn’t. On specially upsetting days, he sat on the veranda, overlooking the garden, under the shade of the second floor, with a drink in hand, and thought of him. His low, rumbling voice. The light shade of blonde of his hair, the sun-kissed color of his cheeks, the multiple freckles across his nose. His rare and legendary grins, so brilliant, so beautiful, and all reserved for Jake. There, at all, because of him, in the first place. Their dumb jokes and stupid comments. How happy he had been without having realized it.

More often than not, he wondered how life could’ve been with Dirk Strider at his side instead. The warm Texan nights spent together stretched out on his bed, Dirk’s hair ruffling lightly from the warm air of the fan, their skin sticky with sweat, their wardrobes consisting of nothing but A-shirts and shorts in the summer. No children, no marriage, no crum-a-grackles; just the two of them, eternal bachelors in linked arms. A life of artistic indulgences, cinema, music, and sex. Glorious, resounding, skin-shuddering sex. God, how he missed that. Burying Dirk into the mattress, pushing him against the wall, laying him down on the counter, and having him right there, taking all of him. There was nothing more addictive or personally rewarding than watching Dirk’s carefully constructed and maintained composure slowly come undone, piece by piece, at his hand. His touch. His whispered praises, the soft brush of his fingers, the electric meeting of their bodies. Dirk had been the best that he had ever had.

And he had been so stupid, so naive. Conceited and prejudiced. Nothing had been good enough for him, not Dirk’s body, Dirk’s company, nothing Dirk could have ever given him. Little did he know, back then, that those would’ve been the best four years of his life. Or, a few of. Definitely up there, anyway. Decidedly better than this.

What had Dirk done with his life? He wondered this often. Was Dirk married, now that he could do that in all of America? Had he replaced Jake, patched up the hole that he had left behind? Did he think of Jake, the way he thought of Dirk, sometimes? Probably not. The thought of having been replaced stung, even after all of these years.

Joey took his hand as they crossed the front yard back inside and he felt like a bloody jackass. The bushes needed trimming, the grass needed watering, the flowers needed to be cut down, and he felt like a jackass. A lot needed titty-toitting in this house, including himself. Mostly himself. How could he have ever regretted her birth? Father of the year, right here. Father of the bloody year.

He felt like a jackass.

They ended up leaving the remaining trash bags stuffed together in the kitchen corner and shared some Chinese food in the living room, no spice. He ate the noodles, Joey ate the vegetables, and Jude had some fruit. He didn’t remember what one year olds could or couldn’t eat, but half of a papaya felt like a safe bet. Jude got it all over himself, and had to be washed before bed. His dripping-dirty clothes were thrown into the week-old pile with the others. Soon, Jude wouldn’t have what to wear, nothing clean. This realization distressed him as he carried the toddler upstairs in an arm and guided Joey by his free hand, but he wouldn’t let it worry him tonight. Not tonight, God, not tonight. He just needed one good night, one full night’s rest, to live the rest of the sitter’s vacation down. He laid Jude in the crib and got into bed with Joey. She liked to cuddle with him, in the rare nights that he spent home, and he’d never take that away from her. Not while he was around to prevent it.

In the morning, Joey wanted to make breakfast, but they didn’t have any pancake mix. She made him look through every single cabinet in the kitchen and every shelf in the pantry just to be told the same, that they didn’t have any left. Her shoulders slumped with the news, and her big eyes watered. Oh, no. Oh, God. He picked her up at once, patted her on the back. She was getting heavy at five, soon he wouldn’t be able to carry her anymore. This was good, right? It meant she was a healthy child, had been eating enough, putting on some baby fat. He sighed. They’d go to the grocery store, at last.

They took the jeep, even though the store wasn’t four blocks away. He’d never be able to carry both the kids and the groceries by himself, not in a million years. He’d grow wings before that ever happened, so the jeep it was.

The looks that people gave him now were far different than before. With Claire, it used to be all happy smiles and cute baby this, cute baby that, but, now, by himself, with how tired he looked and didn’t care to hide it from the rest of the world, the general response was shock, sometimes concern, but nothing incredibly positive. He pushed the cart through the aisles and let Joey pick whatever she wanted to bring home. They were in need of everything, anyway. Might as well start with her interests, and maybe some more fruit for Jude, some frozen dinner for himself. They filled the cart to the brim with products and he had absolutely no idea what he was doing. He grabbed a carton of orange juice before heading for the checkout.

Loading the groceries into the trunk of the jeep was nothing compared to having to carry all of it across the yard, inside the manor. He had never wanted to _not_ do something so much before, in all of his life. The sight alone, of this huge ass trunk, nearly spilling out their groceries all over his driveway, was so upsetting that he had to sit down on the curb for a moment. Joey took the seat next to him without a word.

They watched the cul-de-sac, the well-kept gardens of their wealthy neighbors and the employees that trimmed them. He really needed to hire someone, not only to fix the yard, but to fix the rest of the house, as well. A single, lone sitter would never be able to do in a few years what he couldn’t have done in the whole of his life.

“Can Auntie Jane make us pancakes this morning?” Joey asked. “She makes the best pancakes I’ve ever had.”

Her reasoning was so innocent, so simple, that he quite liked it. He smiled down at her, fishing out his phone.

“Well, why don’t you ring her and ask her yourself?”

He handed her the phone with Jane’s contact on the screen. Joey punched the call icon before bringing it to her ear.

“Auntie Jane? It’s Joey. Could you please make us pancakes in this fine morning?” A pause. Joey frowned. “May you not go to work later?” Another pause. “He knows. He’s sitting right next to me at the moment. Oh? Sure.”

She handed him the phone. Of course Jane would want to speak with him.

He almost dreaded putting it to his ear, but did so, either way, with rather haste. Might as well get this over with. He cleared his throat.

“Hello, dear Jane. Are you quite well this morning?”

“Yes, Jake, I’m fine. Thank you. How many times must I remind you that I’ve a business to run? I know you don’t believe in the rewards of being closely involved with it yourself, what with your own grandparents’ business being run by strange men holders of shares lesser than yours, but I enjoy the satisfaction that comes with the fruits of my own labor. Where’s the sitter to make your children breakfast?”

“On vacations at the moment.”

“Naturally. It would explain why you’re calling me.”

“Jane, you know I don’t diminish your work, or your choice to show at the kitchen for supervision when you absolutely need not, but I’m truly in jeopardy without the sitter, here, to help me through this. I would be very grateful of your support at this time.”

“No, she’s not _helping_ you with anything. She’s doing what you’re supposed to. Did you know that, last time you went in one of your little adventures, you stayed away for so long that Joey herself rung me in the dead of night to ask whether I had news of your apparent death? Did you know this, Jake? Your own children believe you dead with how little you spend at your own home! I’m surprised they know you at all.”

Ouch, that one stung. An absent hand rubbed at his chest in response to it.

“Jane, please. You’ve no children of your own to speak of, you don’t know how challenging it is to tend to them by my lonesome. Just now, for instance, we went grocery shopping, and I believe I might’ve passed out in the midst of it, because I don’t know half of what’s sitting in my trunk. What kind of cereal did I buy? Do we have any oatmeal in the house? I couldn’t tell you. See how upsetting that is? I’ve bought so much that a single gander at the amount to be carried inside has left me quite winded. I sit on the curb as we speak, Joey by my side.”

“Winded from a gander! Who are you, Jake English? Who are you?”

“Exactly! You must help me. I’m sure a day away from work wouldn’t send your business spiraling entirely out of control.”

“Not entirely, no, but a good portion of it would. What’s keeping you from hiring a temporary sitter?”

“I’m not to trust a stranger alone with my children, dear Jane. What if she reveals herself to be a burglar? Worse, a killer? _Worse,_ a fine arts connoisseur, an aesthete? I simply cannot run the risk, not in my own home.”

“What do you mean? You’re an aesthete yourself.”

“Indeed! More than one under a single roof would be imprudent. Why, we might argue whether Michelangelo deserved to have painted the Sistine Chapel; she might find the paintings on my walls of bad taste! I can’t have that at all.”

“Jake, you’re being ridiculous. What if she finds them rather charming instead?”

“Disastrous! I’d be too self-conscious of her educated opinion to bring home another piece.”

“Why, what a load of cobblers. I should be getting quite ready to leave instead of arguing trivialities with you.”

“Hold on just a second, now, Jane. Did you not hear about my current state, on the curb of my own house, at barely eight in the morning? How could I possibly manage to see a day to the end that starts at my own curb?”

“Jake…”

“Jane, good friend.”

“I’ll be late!”

“You’ll have my undying appreciation, don’t you see? This is your chance to save a life.”

“I can’t possibly go over to your house, not in this very moment. If you want, I can whip out some pancakes for your little ones, but not for you, and you can come pick them up in a while, before I arrive late for work.”

“Splendid! We’ll be there in thirty minutes.”

“Not to stay, tell them that! Not to stay!”

“Oh, no, naturally. Good day, Jane!”

He hung up with a renewed feeling of determination in his chest. Looking over at Joey, it seemed she felt the same, for her black eyes were bright and her grin was splitting her cheeky face in half. They got up to unload the jeep and bring Jude inside.

As promised, half an hour later the three of them were standing at the Crocker doorstep, listening to the ringing doorbell echo throughout the innards of the house. Jane showed up to answer it a minute after, with quick steps and hasteful arms. She swung the door open at once and rushed them in, greeting the little ones on the meanwhile. Jake couldn’t have been more relieved to see himself out of that old manor, and in his friend’s company, even if only for a brief moment. Bothering Jane was always a sure way to make himself feel better.

“My goodness, Jake! When was the last time you shaved, or showered, for that matter? Changed your clothes? You look like an abandoned millionaire, stranded at an island for weeks! Dauncy, too. What happened to you?”

The children sat down at the table to eat, while the two adults talked off to the side, leisurely watching them. Jake brought a hand up to his own chin, to stroke the rather long beard that had grown there, now, and the mustache that accompanied it. He was suddenly stricken self-conscious with how long he had just spent caring for the children, while forgetting to care for himself as well.

“Ah, how embarrassing that I wouldn’t know what to answer you.”

“I see that you weren’t very far off with the jeopardy comment.”

“Not at all! I’ve been losing my mind for weeks! I feel to be at the edge of a precipice, both dreading the fall as well as welcoming it. I simply can’t care for two young children alone, I can’t do it! The house resembles more an unkept dungeon than a family home by now, and at this point I’m too afraid to start poking around to fix it.”

“Oh, dear… How long has the sitter been away for?”

“How should I know? She could’ve quit, for all I remember. It seems she’s been away for years.”

“Five days.” Joey corrected him from the table. The two adults turned to look at her, wide-eyed, as she stuffed her tiny mouth with pancakes and syrup. “Mildred’s been away for five days. Her Ma’s sick.”

“Oh, of course. Yes. Her Ma’s sick.” He echoed, absently, feeling quite ghostly at the moment. Jane passed him a look.

“She’s only been away for _five_ days and you’re in this state of despair, Jake, old friend?” Jane’s voice was a sharp whisper that brought color to his cheeks. She sniffed the air. “Have you been drinking, too? In front of the children?”

His eyes widened, his heart pounded. He couldn’t have been more embarrassed if he had wanted to. He tugged on the collar of his, apparently, week-old shirt, suddenly warm on the face and constricted under these buttons.

“Golly, I suppose I’ve been in these old clothes for longer than I thought.” Voice meek and apologetic, he was damn near hyperventilating. Jane slit her eyes up at him.

“Jake, I can’t believe I’m saying this, especially not with how long I’ve known you, but you’ve got to care for yourself. Go home, take a shower, put on some clean clothes, and find what you’re missing. Find that old spark of joy for life that you’re missing, decide on how you’re going to deal with this, then return here and tell me, because this can’t go on, not with the way you’re handling it. You can’t possibly carry on this way. So, go. I’ll be waiting.”

He blinked. “Won’t you be late for work?”

“I’m my own boss, and your current situation is far more desperate than mine, so today off is justified.”

He grinned wide, both hands lifting up to his own chest. Freedom had never felt sweeter.

“Thank you so much, Jane. I’ll be back later today, I promise. It won’t be like last time.”

“It better not, or I’ll never let you in my house again.”

A thorough shower felt more cleansing than it ought to have, and a fresh set of clothes made all the difference to his self-esteem. He felt lighter already, just from having left the kids in capable hands, far better than his own, and the responsibility that they came with. Breath came to him easier, his feet walked by themselves, didn’t need to be dragged around anymore. His body felt broader, lighter. Comfortable to live in. He shaved the beard clean off, styled his hair, and cleaned his glasses. He was a whole new person, feeling good and looking good. He left the bathroom enveloped in an entirely new aura.

Jane had told him to look for what he had been missing, so, what was that? Besides Claire, of course. Clearly, he missed her the most. Resented her death the most, too. In the pits of his soul, he honestly thought that he wouldn’t have been in this situation if she hadn’t left him, and he resented that. It made him bitter, even if it wasn’t particularly true, or real, or confirmed. He was a fuck-up, and that wasn’t her fault. It was nobody’s fault but his own. Her only mistake was trusting him with parenthood, or even a decent fatherhood, or, to put it simply, a present father figure. He was no good at any of it, too airy, floating about in his own thoughts, too engrossed within himself to look past his own image, selfish. Conceited. After all of these years, still conceited. He barely even knew who he was, at times, with how much he brooded, how long he spent in reverie. He was, truly and honestly, a hundred-year-old soul encased in the body of a young adult. That word barely even suited him.

But, he couldn’t have Claire back, evidently. He’d have to find happiness in something else, ideally within himself, but that was more akin a joke than reality. He was entirely composed of decaying dreams and what-could-have-beens, nothing that was palpable or brought him joy. Nothing good, really. Nothing past a depressive state of existence that had him struggling to see the end of each day, and that was the problem. He wasn’t living anymore, had only been existing for the entirety of the last year. He had lived with Claire by his side, now he simply existed, empty and vague. He needed to find himself again, experience joy again. Sure, he went hunting all of the time, with the sitter looking after the children back home. He adventured into the woods for months on end but that was mostly just to stay out of the house, as a desperate attempt at recalling his past, the good old days of his hazardous youth. The only time that he had felt at ease while being by himself.

Now, it seemed that he wasn’t even able to do that anymore. He was no good at spending time alone, always wishing for Claire to be there with him, or, even, Dirk. God, Dirk again. Could he go a day without thinking of Dirk Strider? He was currently on a journey of self-discovery, here, and, no, not the kind that he and Dirk had gone on together all of those years ago. Eight years, now? Jesus fucking Christ, eight years ago. They had met _eleven_ years ago. Lord. He had truly been out of school for quite a while. Had Dirk moved from their little apartment? Did that place still even exist? He vaguely remembered Dirk graduating in ECE while he graduated in Business, but nothing about him moving out and finding a better place came to mind. It was true that, by that time, they were already estranged, but he felt like Dirk would’ve mentioned something big like moving out, so, maybe, he had stayed there for a while longer. Maybe still did. The thought of dropping in on him unannounced was exhilarating.

Exhilarating, really? Dirk Strider made him exhilarated?

Shit.

No, no, he wouldn’t just jump Dirk Strider like that. That was a stupid, unchancy idea. He didn’t even know if Dirk still lived there, in the first place. Though… Wouldn’t that challenge be an interesting one to take? Randomly show up in Houston after eight years of absence and look for clues that would ultimately lead him to Dirk Strider, a sort of bread crumb trail to lead the way. No, that was bloody ridiculous. He wouldn’t waste his time with something like that, as trivial and pointless as hunting game and getting oneself lost in the wilderness, for months, without sure way to get back home. The only difference was that, with his adventures came a sort of thrill that was the dangers of risking his own life and never seeing his family again, while showing up at Dirk’s doorstep… Seeing Dirk’s face again, in person, in the flesh, a feet from himself… Didn’t… Make him feel anything. Nothing at all, nothing. Nothing. The goosebumps on his arms, the shudder up his back, his hitching breath, that was nothing. It all meant nothing.

He grabbed a suitcase and packed it full with clean clothes to go drop in on Dirk Strider.

Jane nearly had a heart attack when he told her. He would be back soon, he promised. The children wouldn’t stay with her long, he promised. The sitter would be back in a few days, probably. He couldn’t promise that one, but he’d be back in under a week, that was for sure. The fact that he hadn’t bought a ticket for the flight back yet needn’t mentioning. Jane leaned on the door frame for support, or she’d faint. The kids ran past her legs to go hug their father goodbye, outside, on the lawn. Joey wished him a good time in America around such a warm smile that he almost, almost considered taking her with. He waved at the three of them before hopping into the Cooper.


	2. Memories, old love

Houston looked largely the same as it did almost ten years ago. A few businesses had closed, a few more chains had opened, more apartment buildings had been built in place of houses, more residential areas had expanded the town outward. Downtown had grown, too, with more clubs littering it now, as well as 24-hour diners and, for some reason, record stores. Dozens of gas stations lit up along the interstate and shopping malls cluttered the skyline. Despite the changes, however, the streets still smelled of summer and the air still clung to his skin like the fog from a hot shower. It would always be far too warm in Texas. 

He checked into the closest hotel to their old apartment, but didn’t rest for a moment, could barely even feel the jetlag like this. He was far too excited to catch up on sleep, and it was only four in the afternoon, anyway. Excited? His legs bounced, his feet skipped, his heart pounded and he couldn’t keep still. Yes, definitely excited. He left his things in his room and walked straight back out. 

Their old apartment building only looked even older now, but, structurally, it hadn’t changed a bit. Even the decoration hadn’t changed, the faded, cream-colored floral wallpaper simply more faded and the dirty, dark red velvet carpet just thinner, and darker. Still no lock, or doorman, or any kind of security on the front doors, so he let himself in, and took the elevator up to the penthouse. Nostalgia flooded through him with memories of shared kisses during the ride up, his face pressed against the side of Dirk’s, the scent of cologne and sweat up his nose. His favorite. He closed his eyes with the reverie, only opening them again as the elevator came to a stop. 

131\. The number still hung pristine on the door, even though the wood of it had been replaced by hard steel now, with multiple bolts and gears, kind of like a safe door, except with a digital scanner on the left side and what looked to be an electronic, red peephole in the center. He approached the door hesitantly, wondering just what kind of lunatic lived here these days. He was about to knock when he noticed a buzzer on the left, by the scanner. He pressed it instead.

A long moment passed before anything happened. So long, in fact, that he almost turned back around and left, when a voice kept him from doing that. A younger voice, not nearly as deep or smooth as Dirk’s, but like a ghostly resemblance of his very own. It spoke through the intercom, also on the left, that he hadn’t noticed before. 

“What do you want?” 

He cleared his throat, suddenly nervous. 

“I’m here to see Dirk Strider, if he still lives about.” 

“Who are you?” 

“Jake English; I know him from college. We used to share this apartment some time ago.” 

The intercom fell silent, and a second later, the door opened. On the left side. He was dead sure that it used to open on the right, and that it also used to have a handle. A knob, anything, not just flat steel. It opened only a crack, the enough for a kid to show up behind it, blonde, arguably white, with aviators over his eyes. Jake had to do a double take before saying anything, from how closely this kid resembled Dirk, but the skin tone was wrong, way off. This kid was far more tan than Dirk could’ve ever been. Still, the hair color was the exact same and the blasé expression was down to a perfect T. This must’ve been his younger brother, whose name escaped him, at the moment. Or did he ever know it? He extended a hand in greeting, grin wide and dumb on his face. 

“Hello, I’m Jake! How do you do?” 

The kid took his hand and shook it with the movement of someone who was perfectly alien to the concept of a proper handshake. He must’ve been younger than he actually looked to be.

“I’m cool, thanks. Bro’s actually not home right now, but if you want to come in, I guess that’s fine. He shouldn’t take long at the factory.” 

The kid’s voice was monotone, and he spoke in that detached way that Dirk used so much, to indicate just how cool and laid-back he was with whatever that was going on. The brother stepped back, and opened the door further, to let him in. He walked past with a quick thank you. 

The living room had remained pretty much intact, only with a bigger flat screen, a new, wider rug, and some items clustered at the corners, on the furniture. The white of the walls was still miraculously white and the wooden flooring was still the exact same. The apartment still smelled of cinnamon, for some reason. They could’ve never quite figured that out. 

He wasn’t surprised to see that Dirk had also changed the couch.

“You said he works at a factory?” He asked. It wouldn’t have been very surprising to learn that Dirk’s ECE had landed him at a warehouse, where he probably loved to be, with the opportunity to live and breathe working machinery all day, all night. Not that Jake could judge, though. If he still had a single passion left in this world, he would absolutely have made it so the better portion of his days were spent around it, somehow connected to it, even if loosely. As the situation currently stood, however, all he could think of were the missing days spent in this tiny ass apartment alongside the brightest man in his contacts list. Yes, still, after almost a decade, still in his contacts list. 

The kid closed the thick steel door with ease, and as it rested on the frame, it locked itself with little to no noise. Upon closer inspection, it was clear that this was none other than Dirk’s definite doing. 

“Yeah, but he only goes there sometimes, when the robots malfunction, or when someone needs him. Why are you here?” 

“Oh, I’m simply visiting. He and I haven’t seen each other in a minute, and I thought about fixing that right away.” 

“Cool.” The kid nodded absently, almost as if he hadn’t been paying attention. Dirk had taught him well. 

“I don’t believe I caught your name.” 

“Because I didn’t say it, but it’s Dave.” A brief, blank pause, almost as if Dave had just forgotten the words that had left him. “Jake, right?” 

“Indeed.” 

“I didn’t know you were foreign. Bro never mentioned that.” 

“Oh? I’m from Britain. I was an exchange student here, over ten years ago.” 

“Sweet. So did your wife come with you or what? Should I be expecting her, maybe set up a double bed while we’re at it, make this place more family friendly? Dim the lights, put on a superhero movie. Bro wouldn’t expect anything less of our hospitality.” 

Dave went on for a while, but truth was that he stopped listening at the word  _ wife. _ His right hand touched the left, absently, where the ring still hugged his finger, his heart beating faster. Anxiety built up at the thought of removing it, but also at the thought of Dirk seeing it on. He didn’t know which one would’ve felt worse, would’ve made him more of an empty shell than a sentient being. Unable to make a conscious decision, he just let it be, and simply slipped that hand into the pocket of his pants, hidden, for now. Not to be dealt with.

“No, that’s quite alright. I’m afraid she isn’t with me at the moment.” 

“Oh.” A deadpan halt. “Shit, I didn’t know you guys were, uh. Man, do you want to change the subject right now? ‘Cause I sure do. Do you want a tour around this place that you already know?” 

“Oh, yes! I would love that.” 

“You used to sleep in my room, right? Let me show you what I did with the place.” 

Dave guided him through the short hallway over to his old bedroom, and as he followed, Jake couldn’t help the lingering of his eyes on the ajar door of the bedroom at the far end of the hall. He could see a portion of the bed from the open crack, so maybe Dirk hadn’t changed the layout of his room at all, during this whole time. The sight, the silence… It felt eerie to be here, all of a sudden. As if Dirk could’ve just walked out of his room at any moment, or if Jake decided to push the door further open and peek inside, he’d see Dirk sitting at his desk, working on something new, enveloped in the glow of the afternoon light, the rays striped on the carpet of his bedroom floor from the partially drawn shades hung over the window, and surrounded by the soft, whirring sounds of his creations that rested slumped on the ground. He followed Dave into his old bedroom. 

It looked nothing like it had looked eight years ago. Every surface available was cluttered with bits and bobs, there were shelves bolted to the wall with what seemed to be embalmed embryos in them, the closet looked to have been turned into a sort of darkroom, and the floor was covered in intermingling wires that connected one soundsystem to the other. It felt wrong to be stepping on them so carelessly like this, especially since he was wearing shoes and Dave wasn’t. He tried to tip-toe over them, and as he did, the overwhelming heat of the afternoon sun hit him dead on, making him regret wearing this long-sleeve, button-up shirt and the fine slacks that matched it. He should’ve changed out of these clothes before coming down here. 

This room had always been far hotter than Dirk’s.

“The bed was over here, and the TV was on this wall, but you know how the sun just completely floods in through this window, here? It cast a gross glow on the TV, so I moved it over to this side, and flipped the bed so it doesn’t stay directly under the window anymore. I put this desk over here instead, but I don’t sit here, ever; I sit over here, where my setup is.” 

Dave spoke while walking around the room, pointing at the furniture as he addressed it. His enthusiasm was adorable to see, even if it took an educated eye to spot it in the minimal tilt of his voice and the quirk of his lips. Dirk was far less expressive than Dave seemed to be, which was a nice change from brother to brother. Jake watched him go about with a smile on his face. 

“That’s smart thinking, my good fellow. I particularly enjoy what you did with the closet. Is it a sort of makeshift darkroom, now?” 

“Oh, yeah. Do you want to go in?” 

“Certainly.” 

He stepped around the wires across the room, and ducked to enter the closet, under the overhead curtain that hung from the top. It was small, obviously, but it seemed just snug enough to do the job. On one side of it, all jumbled up together in a big, hazardous pile, lay what seemed to be the entirety of Dave’s wardrobe, while the other side harbored a desk and some baths for the photographs. Dave flicked a switch outside that lit up a red light, naked bulb hanging from the ceiling, before joining Jake by the baths. The kid checked the photographs leisurely with a pair of tweezers, but didn’t remove them from the chemicals. 

“You’re quite into photography, I see. Is that to be your Major?” 

“No, actually. I considered it, like I considered Archeology, too, but ended up choosing Music instead.” 

“Delightful! How old are you?” 

“Twenty.” 

“Oh, why did I have a feeling you were younger? You and Dirk are nearly ten years apart.” 

“Yeah, I was an accident.” 

Jake clicked his tongue. “Dave, dear, all children are accidents. Don’t put yourself down, now. You’re as much of an accident as both me and your brother. Are these pictures not done?” 

“No, not yet, but I have a couple drying on the rack. Did you see them?” 

“Fleetingly. I must confess that the amount of bits and bobs in your room has left me with enough to see, and the encapsulated embryos on the shelves succeeded in capturing my attention over the hanging pictures.” 

That, for whatever reason, made Dave look chuffed to bits. He must’ve embalmed the embryos himself.

“They’re not embryos, they’re dead birds and other things. One of them is an egg.” 

“Oh. Quite.” 

The smirk on the boy’s face quirked into a repressed grin as Dave quickly left the closet, probably to hide it out in his room. Jake wondered just what it was about all of that that had been so funny, but followed, anyway, and joined Dave by the shelf where the preserved atrocities swam in their respective jars. Dave pointed at one of them. 

“That’s the egg.” 

“Indeed. Have you considered taxidermy for the birds?” 

“Once, I guess, but it takes some artistic doing that my hands just can’t get around to. Not everyone is born an artist, even though I actually am one.” Dave spoke casually, motioning to some drawings taped to the walls at the last part. They looked to have been made in MS Paint by a five year old, then compressed to near-indistinction. Cute. 

“What do you mean, your hands lack artistic prowess? Look at that particular piece, in the center. The man in the blue shirt, his face, the expressions! So genuine, and vivid! I quite feel it within myself.” 

“I call that one Hella Jeff Catches Sweet Bro’s Flaming Hands. It’s something of a valuable possession that Louvre wishes they had.” 

“I see it!” 

They stood around looking at the walls, with hands on their chins, deeply appreciating the vast array of Dave’s artistic outlets until a question came to Jake. One that he had had brewing in the back of his mind for a minute now, but hadn’t exactly formulated it. He turned to Dave. 

“Tell me something, dear friend. Did you move in with Dirk for college, and is that the reason why he hasn’t moved out in all of these years, because he knew you’d eventually grow to share the apartment with him?” 

Dave dropped the hand from his chin, his brows creasing the slightest amount in pensiveness. He pondered for a silent second before answering. 

“No, I don’t think I’m the reason why he stayed here. I mean, I didn’t even want to go to college. I wasn’t even going to, like, my parents wanted me to get a job instead, and, look, I know this sounds dumb, and I’m a huge fucking pussy, but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t get one. It was just… Too much, I don’t know. It caused a lot of discussion at home, too, and I felt really bad, so I left. I was eighteen, and I knew they wouldn’t come after me, or send social services after me, or whatever. I left, without thinking, and came here, feeling like fucking shit, because I’m not Bro’s responsibility, but I didn’t feel that way for long. You know, I think… I don’t know; I think he liked that I came here? Maybe he was lonely? This is pure speculation, though, and if you tell him a single word of it, that’ll uncontestedly make you the uncoolest person I’ve ever met.” 

“Oh, lips sealed! Please, continue.” 

“Cool. Well. He said I could stay for as long as I wanted to, with no strings attached, no pressure to get a job, no nothing. This whole time, ever since he left home, I think he was just here, building his robots and doing his thing. I don’t think he cared to leave, because it wouldn’t have made a difference for him. He just wanted to build shit. When I showed up, I didn’t even know about the factory at all. He only told me about it way later, when I asked.” 

“But you ended up going to college, anyway.” 

“Yeah. He told me I should find something that I like to do, and major in that, even if it feels like a waste of time, so I chose Music.”

“That’s quite the tale. Can I ask what the factory is about?” 

“Oh, it’s just a stupid joke that got way out of hand.” 

He paused, considered that, and nodded. “Your answer explains not a thing, but since it regards Dirk Strider, it makes perfect sense, somehow.” 

Dave smiled. 

“See, Dave, I don’t mean to be churlish, but may we return to the kitchen? This room has always resembled an oven to me, and my poor choice of wardrobe at the moment is dehydrating.”

“Sure, man. I seriously can’t believe you’re wearing pants in this summer.” 

“Honestly? Neither can I.” 

A tremendous slip of the mind, that had been.

As they turned the corner of Dave’s room, out in the hallway, the both of them came to face Dirk, having just walked in through the front, safe-like door. At the sight, so startlingly real, so shockingly there, Jake paused, as an immediate response to it, and watched Dirk have the exact same reaction, about thirty feet away. One hand on the safe-like door handle, the other carrying a white plastic bag and his orange helmet. The door slowly closed by itself, perfectly silent. Jake’s breathing halted. The door only had a handle on the inside.

“Hey, Bro. Jake’s here to see you. Hope you don’t mind I let him in.” Dave spoke conversationally, making his way into the living room and over to the couch that rested in the center of it. He took a seat while both Jake and Dirk came to. 

Jake was the first to move. He grinned wide and bright; his chest full to the brim with pure happiness, unadulterated excitement, making him choke on it, an inflatable beach ball with too much air inside. He could’ve exploded confetti at this point; his hands shook and his entire body vibrated. He had never felt so suddenly alive.

“Oi, Dirk! Long time no see.” His voice was off tone, too loud, too high, but he couldn’t have cared less. He was this close to bouncing on his heels. 

Dirk, on the other hand, didn’t respond right away. He remained still by the door for a moment longer, unmoving, unflinching, which gave Jake the chance to scrutinize him. His height, the size of his body, how much bigger his biceps seemed to have become. Had he picked up lifting in this meanwhile? He looked much thicker than he used to be, at least in that taut tank top. Jake rather fancied it. 

Dirk lethargically motioned to his right. “Please, come to the kitchen.” 

Jake complied with a near skip to his step, but not one that he let show to the outside world, only one that he felt deep in the core of his soul. He was transcending. 

Dirk set the plastic bag and the helmet down on the counter, resting between his hands, gloved palms pressed to the countertop marble, skin about just as white. He still wore fingerless gloves to ride. 

Jake leaned on the counter with a hand, almost too close to Dirk’s, but not quite. He grinned, toothy and wide, absolutely shameless, entirely enthusiastic. Dirk’s inscrutable expression remained.

“How do you do, Dirk? I heard you work at a factory now. That’s jolly neat.” 

Dirk’s face turned a minute degree in Dave’s general direction on the couch, as if in betrayal for the disclosed information without previous permission. He looked back at Jake, silent, his porcelain face resting expressionless behind the shades. 

“Yeah.” 

Curt, and dry, and offering nothing else. The Wall of China. Jake was well used to that; this felt like their first year of college, getting to know each other all over again. Quiet Dirk and outspoken Jake. The memories were too many. 

“What’s that all about? Do you work at the warehouse, there?” 

“Yes. It’s my business.” 

“Why, yes, of course it is. I’m only asking to be au fait with what you’ve been up to in these last eight years. Can you believe it’s been so long? I was quite limpsey when it came to me.” 

“No, Jake, I mean the factory is a literal business that I own.” 

“Oh! How did that come to be?” 

Dirk shook his head. “Remember those stupid sex puppets?” The last two words pulled the corners of his lips upwards, into the tiniest smile that, after all of these years, he still couldn’t avoid displaying when speaking of those abominations. Jake’s grin widened. 

This felt  _ just _ like their first year of college. 

“How could I forget such deeply rooted trauma?” 

“Well, remember when fans would sometimes want to buy them, and I had to hand stitch a couple for sale? For whatever twisted, ungodly reason, the demand for them grew practically overnight, so I had to make a machine that would manufacture the puppets for me. I made one, then had to make another, and some more, and when I realized it, I had an entire fucking warehouse of them and thousands of puppets being shipped all over the world. I still can’t figure out what the fuck happened all of a sudden, but here we are.” 

“Blimey, Dirk, you’ve got yourself an empire, looks like.” 

“I know, it’s fucking dumb.” 

“Might be, but is the revenue really to be passed up?” 

“That’s literally the only reason why I bother.” 

The grin hurt his cheeks, at this point, but absolutely wouldn’t dissolve. He was far too up into the clouds to come down so soon, heart too fluttery and grin too bright. Standing by Dirk, looking at his face, hearing his voice again, being so tantalizingly close to him, within arm’s reach, was blissful. Jake was in Heaven.

Dirk motioned vaguely with a hand, half-assing a shrug.

“Well, what are you here for? What do you want?”

“Nothing at all. I’m here for you.” 

Dirk’s jaw set. His hand dropped to rest on the helmet before himself. 

“It’s been far too long, Dirk. I’ve missed you.” 

Watching the way Dirk’s throat moved as he swallowed felt like a betrayal to his own, flimsy heterosexuality. He licked his lips. 

“Why, am I wrong to be here?” 

Dirk didn’t answer. He turned his face aside, and took a step back, holding onto the edge of the counter with a hand, surely for balance. His face was entirely devoid of emotion, as customary. The silence was deafening, and, suddenly, this didn’t feel like such a superb idea anymore. Suddenly, Jake felt the urgent need to apologize. Apologize and see himself out. His sole presence was unbecoming; it clearly disturbed Dirk’s peaceful state of mind. 

Dirk had probably already moved on from him, anyway. Being here was beyond ridiculous.

“It’s fine.” Dirk said, voice flat and dry, his signature coverup move. He offered his cheek when he lied. 

Jake leaned away from the counter and stood upright. 

“Is it, though?” 

Dirk’s shades tilted down as he seemed to scrutinize his own knuckles that rested above the smooth, glassy surface of the helmet. Neither one of his hands had a ring on them. Dirk looked back up at him, and his tone was stale, dull. Absolutely joyless. 

“Yeah, Jake, it’s fine. I don’t give a shit.” 

Jake wanted to kiss him. 

“Sure doesn’t seem that way.” He forced a weak smile to take away some of the heaviness from his own words. Dirk didn’t react to it. 

“So are you leaving?” 

The question cut through him like the blade of a sword. He staggered a step back in response to it. 

“Oh.” A pause to check himself. “Would, ah, would you like me to?” 

“Yeah.” 

No hesitation. He ran a nervous hand through his hair, coming down to the nape of his own neck. The skin burned under his fingers.

“Alright. Well.” His voice was shaky, but he tried not to let it show too much. He pulled out his wallet and removed the extra Club Quarters keycard from it, placed it on the counter by the bag and helmet. Dirk grabbed his fingers before he could pull away. 

His shoulders squared, his jaw set, his face paled. His left hand. Dirk’s skin was warm and it didn’t touch the ring. 

Even hidden behind black lenses, he could feel the intensity of Dirk’s eyes boring straight through his face, making him winded, as if punched into the stomach. He removed his hand from Dirk’s, slowly, reluctantly. Apologetically. It felt wrong. Dirk lowered his hand to the countertop and swiped the keycard from it, brought it up for examination, even though his glasses had probably already scanned it from top to bottom. He flipped it over once before his other hand joined the first and snapped the card clean in the center. Jake watched, perplexed and paralyzed, as Dirk threw the two pieces into the sink. 

“You’re fucking disgusting.” 

“I’m not married.” 

They spoke over each other, then both fell silent. Dirk parted his lips to argue this, but Jake beat him to it. 

“She’s dead.” 

Whatever had been on Dirk’s tongue, died there, and never made it out. His entire stature softened immediately; his shoulders drooped, his torso leaned back, and his mouth closed. Jake swallowed thick, his heart pounding loud into his ears, trying to leap for his throat. Dirk pressed his lips together. 

“I’m sorry.” 

He shook his head, waving a dismissive hand between the two of them. May the subject rot and vanish. 

Discussing Claire’s death with his ex-boyfriend was the last thing on his to-do list. 

“It’s alright, I just…” Words came and went and trailed off all without a single thought passing through his head, his right hand finding the left, finding the ring, absently, on the meanwhile, but only for a second. His hands soon slipped back into their assigned pockets. “I’ll be at the Club Quarters down the street, room 43, should you need me. Ta-ta.” 

He stepped backwards once, then swiveled on his heel to face the door. Dave had been sitting on the couch this whole time, fiddling with his phone, so Jake reached a hand to touch his shoulder for attention. 

“Dave, my good chap, can you see me out?” 

Dave passed him a brief glance before hopping onto his feet, and circling the end of the couch for the door. 

“Yeah, of course. Take care, Jake.” 

“You, too, mate! Lovely to meet you.” 

“Same here.” 

He offered Dave a friendly grin accompanied by a nod before leaving the apartment entirely. Not a single glance back at Dirk. 

A nap would suit him first, a ten-hour flight home would suit him right after. 


	3. No, but, maybe?

The digital clock on the bedside table read a quarter to five when he lay down, and half past nine when a couple of hard knocks on the door woke him up. He breathed in sharp, tossed about, but didn’t get up straight away. It was only Dirk, he knew that, and didn’t feel the slightest need to answer the door at all, especially after their unfortunate altercation earlier. Sighing, he buried his face back into the pillow, the world a vast darkness before his eyelids as the knocking repeated itself. Once, twice. He refused to move. 

A different sounding thud, accompanied by Dirk’s soft voice, muffled by the wood of the door, quietly echoed into his room. 

“Jake.” 

A heartbeat. 

“Open up.” 

He tried to imagine a reality where he wouldn’t. Where he’d stay perfectly cozy in bed, snuggled up with a pillow, and drift back to sleep to the white noise of Dirk’s incessant knocking lulling him. He’d get a full night’s rest, Dirk would eventually leave, and he’d take the first flight back to Winchester. 

He got up, ran a palm down his face, and went open the door. 

Dirk was a blurry image of peach and blonde before him, with a hint of black over the majority of his face and covering his full chest, too. Jake felt the wall for the lightswitch rather carelessly and walked back to the nightstand, his glasses’ last known location. He let Dirk walk himself in while perching the glasses atop the bridge of his nose. The quiet clicking of the lock made him turn around, watch Dirk step further into the room, but not much, only a hesitant feet or two. He looked cute in a hoodie, a rare sight. The hoodie and long sleeves, not his sheer good looks, of course.

“So.” He started, running a hand through the black mess that was his mussed hair in something of an attempt to groom it. It was as good as nothing. “What is it?” 

“You know I’m not the one who should be answering that.” 

“Oh, is that supposed to be me, then?” 

Dirk crossed both arms over his chest, his shoulder leaning on the wall. 

“Why are you really here? You didn’t cross the Atlantic just to look at my face and ask me where I’ve been, so what is it? Are you here to fuck, Jake?” 

His brows shot up, his cheeks colored, and despite how unimpressed he might’ve been at Dirk’s little accusation, this outrageous read still had his greens doubling up in size. He felt exposed, all of a sudden, and the feeling didn’t spark from his lack of a shirt. He needed a double take to recompose.

“What?” Half of a laugh, and half of his best impression of astonishment. “Jeez, Dirk, I’m not on the pull, here.” He absolutely fucking was. “I was being entirely transparent when I said that I missed you, but I didn’t quite mean it like that.” He didn’t, but he also did, but he also didn’t. 

Dirk raised a challenging brow. He looked to not have been buying this, and he probably wasn’t, but even in the pleasant yellow of the overhead lights, and mostly hidden under the glasses,  Jake could see just how dark Dirk’s cheeks had become with the topic. Skin that clear snitched itself out. 

“Is that right?” Tone calm and collected, cool as a cucumber, as if Dirk weren’t absolutely screaming on the inside. At least, Jake would’ve liked to believe so. 

He hesitated to answer. 

“Yes.”

Shit, fuck, he shouldn’t have said a thing. Changed the subject, derailed it completely, or just knocked it right off the park. Hesitating right then invalidated his answer and, God, he wanted to bloody die. He should’ve stayed quiet, the knob head. He felt like jumping out of this four story high window just to see the outcome of it. It sure would’ve been a better one than whatever came out of this.

Dirk smirked wholly knowingly and he wanted to kiss it right off of his pretty boy face. 

“Is the entire British population just not enough for you anymore?” 

“Belt up, Dirk, I’m not here to bang.” 

Again, only to reiterate, he was.

“Then why are you here? What makes you seek me out after nearly a decade? I thought I’d never see you again.” 

“I  _ missed _ you! God, how incomprehensible is that for you? I missed you, Dirk! I missed you! And in case you’re not closely acquainted with the ways of society, since the dawn of man, when a person misses another, they go visit them. That’s what I’m doing. That’s why I’m here.” 

“Hey, damn, really? Thanks for calling. Thanks for letting me know beforehand so I could’ve welcomed you with some tea and crackers a la Europe.” 

“Oh, please, you wouldn’t have answered. You have my number blocked, I bet.” 

“You’re right, but you could’ve used another number.” 

“Gee, I wonder who’s calling you from Great Britain!” 

“Yeah, whatever, I get your point. Unavoidable evils and all of that, so what now?” 

“What now?” Jake echoed back, shrugging right after. “I don’t know.” 

He really didn’t, and could’ve sworn that Dirk was squinting behind the shades at that lousy response. 

“What did you think would happen after you showed up here, Jake? What did you think we’d do?” 

“I didn’t think that far ahead, honest. At first, I thought I wouldn’t even find you. Then, I thought, if I did, you’d stab me clean through with a sword or any other weapon of choice upon sight. Then, I reconsidered that, and wondered if you’d get your new, beefy, two meter boyfriend to do the job for you. Then, I had a nip in the plane, woke up and sipped on some weak chamomile tea, nipped again because the weakness of the tea had gotten me rather distressed, then woke up for some biscuits and wondered if you could possibly lay dead as the plane landed. That was as far as I got.” 

That was all well and true, too. 

Dirk raised a brow. 

“New, beefy, two meter boyfriend?” 

“Yes, well, I know you’re way into that, and there was a possibility of you having met Prince Charming while I was away.” 

“Prince Charming…” Dirk shook his head. “God, Jake, you’re out of your damn mind.” 

“Maybe so, but the fact of the matter is that I’m here, and what happens next is entirely up to you.” 

Dirk shut his mouth, fell into silent thoughtfulness. He seemed to have considered that some, before pushing himself off of the wall, and softening his voice. 

“What happens next is you tell me what you did for the last decade.” 

“Why? You already know the answer to that. I’ve been married.” 

“To whom?”

His heart skipped a beat, his mouth ran dry. He didn’t want to speak her name. 

“Oh, Dirk, does it matter?” His words were morose as he fell back on the bed, sitting at the edge of the mattress. Dirk took a tentative step toward him, in his peripheral, but he didn’t pay that any mind. His greens were cast down at his own hands, the right one tracing the wedding band. “She’s gone, now.” 

“Is that why you’re here?” 

Dirk’s question made him look up to stare into the shades. He blinked, no answer. Dirk rephrased. 

“Did you come looking for me because you’re lonely?”

His eyes dropped back down. He honestly, truly couldn’t answer that. The embarrassment would’ve been too much. Instead, he remained silent, which was as much of an answer as he could’ve offered. Dirk took the seat next to him. 

Neither one of them said a thing, only contributed to the silence of the room as minutes lost between themselves. Dirk’s cologne was faint, and pleasant, something in it resembling a citric touch, maybe the orange, maybe the lemon. Acqua Di Parma? Jake had a bottle of that back at home. 

“You still have the tattoo.” Dirk commented after a minute. Jake nodded absently. 

“Never felt quite right to remove it.” 

A heartbeat passed in silence. He sighed. 

“Can we be friends again, Dirk?” 

The question came more as a quiet plea than an inquisition. He was positively, painfully lonely, and Dirk had hit that one right on the nail. All of them, really. He had it all effortlessly figured out.

“We tried that, remember? It doesn’t work for us.” 

“Can we try a second time?” 

“It’ll end just like the first.” 

“No, it won’t. We’re not kids anymore. I know how to handle these things now.” 

“Maybe you do, Jake, but I don’t think I can risk going through all of that again.” 

Silence, only the mute sound of his heart sinking. He watched Dirk, on the meanwhile, in this shared quietness, the near see-through tinge of his skin, the freckles that adorned it, the perfect shape of his cupid’s bow. He lifted a hand to Dirk’s chin, traced his jaw with featherlight touch. Dirk didn’t lean away. 

“If you’re here for sex, Jake…” 

“I’m not.” A whisper, the tiniest shake of the head. He splayed a palm on Dirk’s neck, his fingers on the nape, his thumb on Dirk’s jaw. Dirk stood still. “I’m here for you.” 

Dirk swallowed. He watched the rise and fall of his Adam’s apple, the setting of his jaw, the longer inhale of breath. Dirk didn’t say a thing, simply stayed put, unmoving, shades at a two-third angle toward him. His rosy lips quivered, then turned away completely, facing away from Jake. 

He pulled Dirk closer by the hand on his neck and pressed a kiss to his cheek, holding him there, keeping him in place. Dirk raised a palm in half-hearted protest, but dropped it midway up, letting it rest on Jake’s chest instead. He inhaled deeply before parting from Dirk’s face. 

“Stay with me, Dirk. Be mine again.” 

Dirk’s hand fisted his shirt, tugged on it as he shook his head, still inept at meeting Jake’s eye. Jake pulled him closer, his forehead pressed to the side of Dirk’s temple. 

“Please.”

Dirk finally pushed him off, leaving the bed altogether, up on his feet in a second. With both palms covering his face, he walked away to the center of the room, shoulders sagging, breathing heavy. He sniffled, sighed. A hand wiped at his eye, under the shades, before he turned around. His nose was red and his cheeks glistened. Jake watched, silent and dumb, from the bed. His eyes probably resembled two big, round, vacant emeralds. 

“I can’t do this again, Jake.” Dirk’s voice was strained, he spoke shaking his head. Jake got up to his feet. 

“I’ll be serious this time, Dirk. I’ll take our companionship seriously, to the utmost degree. I mean it.” 

“No, I don’t want to be your rebound.” 

“That’s not what you are. You’ve never been that.” 

“All you want me for is to fill the void. You’d never be here normally, if your wife hadn’t died.” 

That last bit pierced him right through, made him wince. He shut his eyes for a second, a crease between his brows, as the feeling passed, the stinging pain. He looked at Dirk again. 

“God, Dirk, I’m here because I still love you.” 

No thought. The words left his mouth without being registered, but the moment they reached his own ears, he stilled. His blood cooled, his pressure dropped. Limpsey for the tenth time this week, he watched Dirk stagger back a step, into a similar sort of reaction. 

He had never said that before, not even while they dated. Not for the whole time that they had slept together, not during their time apart, never. The thought of it used to leave a bitter aftertaste behind, it had made him damn near declare the sentence taboo back then, and, now, this. Blurted out entirely from the heart. He almost collapsed onto the floor like a big pile of chopped up wood. 

Dirk was the first to break the silence, mumbling through the question, audible only due to the heavy quietness of the room. 

“What?” 

Jake felt his cheeks color. Fuck. 

“I… I, well. Well. You heard me.” 

Might as well own up to it than risk an even more monumental embarrassment surely already awaiting him in the sidelines. He ran a hand through his hair, nervously, shaky fingers brushing wild locks back from his face. If he were wearing a shirt he’d be soaking it through. 

Dirk was perfectly stupefied. The shades didn’t do jack shit to cover that up. 

“You…”

“Yes.” He cut in sharply, sounding surer of himself now. “You heard me.” 

Dirk took a step back, a hand lifting to his own chest, grabbing the shirt that covered it. He obviously didn’t know how to proceed; in this situation, neither one of them did. This was new territory, one where they had never even treaded before. It felt like an adventure. Jake’s heart set off from the excitement. 

“You’re just saying that.”

“Have I ever just said that?” 

“You’ve never been in such dire scenario to have to pull that card.” 

“Yes, of course I have, except, back then, I gave it all up instead of trying to salvage us, or do you not remember that punch you threw? Hit me square on, too. Good arm.” 

“No… I know.” Dirk tugged at his collar, embarrassed. “But I wouldn’t have if you…”

“Dirk. It’s fine. We’re not here to discuss that.” 

“Right.” 

“So.” He shouldn’t have trusted himself with making this right, with going about this smoothly. When had that ever worked itself out for him, when the whole of the situation depended on him and himself alone? He brushed his hair back, trembling fingers hidden into the disheveled mess. “I know I don’t deserve a second chance with you, but maybe we could, ah… We could start over? We don’t have to get together, I’d only like to have lunch with you tomorrow. Or dinner, whichever you’re available for.” 

Dirk hesitated to answer. A slight crease appeared between his pretty brows as he seemed to think the proposition over, carefully consider it. He didn’t look to want to respond positively, and Jake could understand that. 

“Sure… Lunch. How long will you be staying in town for?” 

Forever, he wanted to say. Forever, he’d stay for as long as Dirk would have him. Forever, he’d remain loyal by Dirk’s side. Forever, he’d have Dirk to himself. Forever, forever, forever. Even if Houston was too hot, and Americans were too rude, and the apartment wasn’t half his anymore, and it was probably too small to house the three of them now, with Dave in there, too. Still, despite everything, he’d never leave. 

But then he remembered Jane, and that he still wasn’t sure whether or not the sitter would actually be coming back one day. A long, deep inhale filled his lungs, being breathed out quietly thereafter. 

“A couple of days.” 

Which was true. 

Dirk seemed tense at the answer, his shoulders stilling. 

“Alright.” There was some lethargy to his pronunciation. “I take it you mean that literally.” 

“Well, perhaps three or four days.” No, maybe not four. “Maybe not four.” 

Still tense, but not as much, Dirk’s shoulders relaxed some. 

“Lunch tomorrow, then. Meet me at Benji’s at one.” 

“I thought you hated Benji’s.” 

“I just hate how it looks, I don’t hate the food there. You know that.” 

Jake grinned. It felt nice to know that Dirk hadn’t really changed in all of these years. Maybe he looked bigger, and stronger, now, but he was still five centimeters shorter than Jake, his facial features held the delicacy of a princess’ and his unreasonable taste for unimportant things had remained unchanged. He was still the same person that Jake had met over ten years ago, and had crushed on for as long as he could remember. The thought sent butterflies to roam about Jake’s stomach. 

“Benji’s at one.” He echoed back to Dirk, but mostly to his own subconscious, so he wouldn’t forget it. Not that he’d forget such an important meeting, anyway. 


	4. Beastly toffs, smarmy gits

After Dirk left, and he returned to bed, his body still managed to sleep for twelve hours. In one hand, he understood that his brain was making up for the jetlag, and the past week with the children, being woken up every other hour from Jude’s crying or Joey’s kicking for five days straight, but it still pissed him off. Sleeping that much and running the risk of being late to the most important meetup of the last ten years was beyond unintelligibly stupid, but he  _ wasn’t _ late. He had just run the risk, not taken it. Big bloody deal; he was freaking out for no reason again. He woke up at half past ten, took a thorough shower, only possibly not as thorough as Dirk’s regular showers, but thorough if compared to his usual ones, slipped on his best Texan summer attire and styled his hair in that way that Dirk, drunk and kissing him messily on the face, had once said that he liked, spiked up but not too much, still soft. Allegedly prime for running fingers through. 

He thought about that while leaving the hotel. 

Being half an hour early to a meetup with Dirk usually meant being on time, since Dirk was always early himself, worried sick of being late to anything, sharing Jake’s very own paranoia before they had even met, so when two paranoid early birds made plans together, arriving at Benji’s at one meant half past twelve. Which perfectly explained Jake’s waiting around by the entrance, under the first shade that he could find, but not for ten minutes. Even in a sleeveless button-up shirt and a pair of khaki shorts under the shade, he still sweated, and it honestly got to him. He wasn’t wearing Versace to have it run down his bloody chest. He fanned himself with a hand, glancing at his watch every other minute, just to make sure that he had, in fact, been waiting for ten whole minutes. Granted, it wasn’t a lot, but in this heat, a single second was already too much. In the best of scenarios, Dirk hadn’t stood him up, and was actually just fucking with him on purpose. For as much as that made him mad, it was better than the alternative.

He huffed at the sight of Dirk’s motorcycle approaching  _ fast _ from the horizon, all red in the face from both the heat and his temper, and just as his lips parted to spew out some awful, cross commentary, he noticed Dave on the passenger seat, and the words died on his tongue. He simply watched, dumbfounded, as Dirk parked and the two brothers hopped out, onto the sidewalk. 

“Hey, Jake. I’m so sorry.” Dirk said, first thing, upon helmet removal. He carried it under his right arm while walking over to him, Dave in tow. “I’m late. I had to pick up Dave, and I know that’s not an excuse, but I didn’t account for his boyfriend to be there.” 

“Matesprit.” Dave corrected quietly, his voice just under a breath.

“Right, matesprit, but, yeah. That was awkward, and I’m sorry. You’re sweating.”

His anger had been dying down with all of the apologizing, and the stupefying amazement that was Dave’s sight in all of this, but at that one little comment, so absent and so quick, it was like a switch got flipped and brought his frustration back in full. His brows creased, his voice dulled. 

“I know.” 

Dirk held back a smirk, and for as much as that was infuriating, it also made Jake want to kiss his stupid face. Instead, he curved Dirk and reached a hand for Dave to take. 

“Easy, Dave?” 

Dave scrambled with the helmet for a quick second before shaking his hand, the passive aloofness of his face behind aviators a clear indication that he had no idea how to respond to a simple greeting such as that. The handshake was getting better, at least.

“Easy, man.” 

Jake grinned, and they all left the stifling Texan heat for the cool air of Benji’s. 

Seated in a booth by the corner, next to clear, wide windows and across from Dirk, Jake lowered the menu. Every time they came here, without fault, he told himself that he’d change his order, and  _ not _ get the beef this once, try something else from their multitude of choices, but it was always another case of him lying to himself and getting the beef anyway. Dirk was the same case, too. He always read the menu as if his mind hadn’t been made up a decade ago, briefly commented on how he should probably get the salmon or the shrimp this time, but always ended up going for the burger. Always. It was adorable. 

Jake put the menu down and leaned his forearms on the table. 

“So, Dave. Why didn’t your matesprit come with you?” 

Dave’s shades flashed over to his direction. 

“He didn’t feel like it. And, also, he didn’t fit in the bike.” 

“Right! That’s too bad. I would’ve loved to meet him.”

“Well, are you having dinner with us tonight? You might meet him, then.” 

“Oh, uh.” He glanced from his reflection on Dave’s shades to his own reflection on Dirk’s, very briefly, then back. “I don’t know. Dirk and I haven’t discussed that possibility.” 

Dave grinned. 

“The way you said that makes me feel like I’m having lunch with my two dads who discuss things with each other before agreeing for brunch with Tiffany and her husband on Friday.” 

“I can’t well argue with that. I mean, who knows, Tiffany might bring her snotty children to ruin the double date.” 

“Oh, God, a double date. That’s exactly what this would’ve been with Karkat here.” Dave spewed out absently, under his breath, in visible shock. He seemed so heavily struck with the realization that he needed to rest his head in a hand, fingertips on his temple. “He’s a fucking genius.” 

Dirk raised a hand, beckoning the waiter. His silence wasn’t all that uncharacteristic of him, so Jake wasn’t worried. He was happy to finally be getting some food after sleeping right through breakfast. 

“Wait, I’m not done choosing.” Dave protested, but to no use. The waiter had been close to their table, and arrived in mere seconds, so the kid went back to the menu in a flash. 

“Are you ready to order?” 

“Yes.” Jake spoke first, cutting Dirk deliciously off before he could. “I’ll have the All-American Burger and a glass of Fresh Orange No-Jito, please.” His eyes stared straight into pointed shades as he ordered around a mischievous grin. Dirk watched him emotionless. 

The waiter simply jotted that down before turning his attention to the two brothers sitting side-by-side. 

A second of intense staring passed before Dirk spoke up. 

“I’ll have the beef and your St. Arnold’s root beer.” 

Jake’s grin could’ve split his face in half. 

“Shit, uh.” Dave ran a hand through his neatly-combed hair, aviators still angled down at the menu before himself. “I’ll have the, uh. Chicken. This crunchy one. And, I guess, this grapefruit sparkling water thing. Doesn’t sound like it’s from this planet, so I’ll have that.” 

“It’s from Earth, sir. You’re holding the humans' menu.” 

“Yeah, I know.” 

They all handed the menus back and watched as the waiter left with them under an arm. Dirk leaned back on his seat, arms crossed over his chest. 

“You’ll have the burger, Jake?” 

“And you’ll have the beef?” 

Playful silence, where he tried to keep from grinning and failed, and Dirk only managed a quirk of the lips at that. Dave glanced between them. 

“Did you just order for each other?” 

No response. 

“Oh my God, you just ordered for each other. That’s the cutest shit I’ve ever seen.” 

“So, about dinner.” Dirk cut his brother off, changing the topic entirely, and sounding so rude while doing it that he got a wide grin from Jake in immediate response. Not that he seemed particularly chuffed about that, though. Or, at all. His face remained impassive in that way where it looked to have been made of porcelain. “It’s Roxy’s birthday party tonight. She’s hosting dinner with some close friends, which just means you should eat before attending because all she’s going to serve you is fancy shrimp spread on mini toasts and the alcohol that she got as birthday gifts from the other years. She didn’t invite you.” 

“Evidently.” 

“... But, I can bring you with us, if you want to go. She might kick you in the balls, though, so watch out.” 

“I feel like she’d be doing you a favor with that one.” 

“Yeah, why do you think I have no intention of stopping her?” 

His grin widened, despite everything, just because this was so nice. This felt so nice. Just hanging out with Dirk again, sharing a nice, pleasant lunch with him, talking about the people that they knew, getting to know his brother and a little bit about the kid’s life, as well. It was nice, and that was what he had been looking for when hopping onto the first flight over, just an easy, stress-free, pleasant time with the people that he cared about. People who made him feel like a person, not some crazed single father of two who lived in a decaying mansion in the woods. The woods, of course, being a reference to his own unkept lawn. He actually lived in the uppity side of Winchester, where every house was a mansion, and their servants were paid top pound to tend to it. The children were raised like robots and the pet dogs had more manners than he ever would. 

Being here felt like a separate dimension. 

“How is Roxy doing, by the by?” 

“Better. She’s been sober for seven years and counting, now.” 

“What, really? That’s remarkable. Last time I saw her she was passed out on the floor of her own home, just next to the couch, almost looking to have taken the floor by choice.” 

“She might have, I don’t know. She has a thing for falling asleep in very impractical spaces, which, I think, she passed onto Rose, because, last time I visited, Rose was asleep with Jaspers on the porch.” 

“Oh? Who’s Rose?” 

“Right, you don’t know her. Rose is her daughter.” 

“Daughter!” 

“Yeah. That’s kind of why she’s been trying to stay sober.” 

“Crikey! A daughter! I’m stupendously baffled. Who’s the father?”

“No, we don’t talk about that. Don’t even bring that up in front of her.” 

“Why, did he not take responsibility for the child?” 

“Obviously not, but that’s not all. He was married, and Roxy didn’t know that. She found out with the news. Do you remember how shitty things were around the time you left?” 

“Yes, I’m painfully aware of the memories.” 

“So you remember that she was in a bad place back then. Well, long story short, it didn’t get better, and she ultimately chose the baby over the guy, because, at least, she’d have someone loyal at her side, a reason to give her purpose and get better.” 

“Good God… What an incompetent cock up, the man! Does he feel no remorse, at all? Abandoning a mother with child!” 

“It doesn’t matter, Jake. He’s not important.” 

“Right, I know, but I’m just… I’m gobsmacked. I can’t believe it.” 

As a father, and a bad one at that, he probably didn’t have much credit to go around judging other men, but at least he was trying. He was giving some of himself to raise his children, he was making an effort, even if minimal, not nearly the necessary amount, but he was trying. He hadn’t just taken the easy way out and thrown the children to adoption, or, worse, left them fatherless in law. That was beyond inconsiderate, that was pure evil. It was  _ evil _ to not even own up to one’s very child. Jake could barely even phantom the guts to do something like that. 

With the arrival of their food came a change of conversation topics to something lighter, more fun and pleasant, less gossipy. It was settled that Jake was to attend the birthday party alongside the Striders tonight, and as he mentioned having to hunt down a gift for the hostess, Dirk stopped him right there. It had been a recent decision of Roxy’s, but nobody was to gift her anything anymore, or even bring her the smallest present, the tiniest wrapper. She’d throw them right out, because all that she had been getting were expensive bottles of alcohol to be served at the party, and that had upset her beyond measure. Jake couldn’t believe the kind of people who’d gift a recovering alcoholic  _ vodka, _ but that was past being argued over. He was years late to the quarrel. 

He didn’t know if Roxy would even have liked to see him tonight, for starters. He was crashing in uninvited, holding onto Dirk’s arm as if his entrance ticket. Unbecoming, but at least he was wearing his finest suit and Dirk’s favorite cologne. Yes, he had brought a bloody suit to Texas, so what? He had had an upscale dinner in mind when packing it, but this also worked. He’d take whatever he could get. 

Roxy had moved to a beautiful new house during his absence, two story high and spacious enough to hold a birthday party with no problem. Her family had always been wealthy, and this, apparently, was the result of it. Jake couldn’t say that he didn’t relate, nor that he didn’t fancy the whole of it. The wide, high ceiling living room, the expensive rugs, the various bookshelves, and a ridiculously immense wizard statue for  _ some _ reason, somehow falling in perfect synchrony with the decoration on the walls and the other, smaller wizard statues. He couldn’t well judge that, being the owner of a statue himself, just not of the same category as these. These belonged to a whole new section of art that he wasn’t well acquainted with. 

When Roxy saw him, she nearly dropped the tray of drinks. Her eyes widened, her mouth gaped, she was petrified. So maybe Dirk hadn’t told her that Jake was coming. Nice, very nice. He felt like a jackass now but tried to play the awkwardness off with a friendly grin and overall likeable attitude. It was his only shot at getting through this alive. 

“Jake English!” Roxy exclaimed, still looking to mostly be in a state of paralysis. Her eyes were open wide, the bright pink of her irises boring straight through him. He felt himself start to sweat under the pressure. “What year is this?” 

He offered an awkward laugh in response to her joke, already regretting having showed face here at all. 

“Alright, Roxy? Happy birthday!” His tone was cheery as he went in for a hug that, to his surprise, was reciprocated by an arm across his back. The one that wasn’t carrying the tray, evidently. It was brief, and soon they were standing in front of each other again. Roxy handed Dirk the tray. 

“Dirk, could you please finish serving these for me?” She sounded off, awkward, her tone forcefully polite. Dirk complied with no objections, leaving her free to grab Jake by the arm and pull him aside, black nails digging into the sleeve of his dress shirt. He gulped, already expecting the worst, bracing himself for that kick to the nutsack. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Roxy whispered, vile, the words sharp enough to slit his throat right open. His heart sank, he was definitely sweating now. 

“Ah, ah, visiting?” 

“After nearly a decade, Jake? Are you insane?” 

He really was, at this point. He’d believe that much. 

“Why are you here with  _ Dirk?” _

“Well, he invited me, which, I know, is completely unorthodox, but, see, everything we do is kind of backwards, anyway, and--”

“No, Jake, I mean, why are you here in America, why are you here with Dirk? What are you trying to do? You two broke up, shithead. You’re supposed to be dead to him.” 

“I know; I’m well aware of the facts, Rox, thank you for reminding me of what I’ve been through. I’m simply here because I’ve missed him.” 

Her brows raised in ironic understanding. She looked wholly unimpressed. “Really, you missed him. Wow. That sure is reason enough to just drop in here, whenever you please, so he can cure your loneliness, isn’t it?” 

“It’s not like that. I respect his choice of not wanting to get back together with me.” 

“He said that? You two have discussed this?” 

“Yes, in fact, we have. He said he’s not interested, and I can respect that.” 

Roxy slit her eyes up at him, not buying it. In her defense, he could barely convince himself of his own words. His intentions for visiting were impure, and he was an awful, self-centered, inconsiderate knob head so ashamed of that that he couldn’t even admit it out loud to his own reflection, much less to Dirk’s closest friend, even less to Dirk himself. He was scum all around and was painfully aware of it. 

“You’re here to ruin his life.” She finally said, voice low with the realization of it. Jake ran a hand through his nicely styled hair. 

“Why, I don’t believe that to be so. In the way I see it, I’m here to give him what he wanted about ten years ago, you know, a real, mature, adult relationship. The fact that I’m here while he’s single couldn’t have been a coincidence to the stars, or fate, or what-have-you. Destiny, is what I mean.”

“He’s single because you scared him off of relationships. I hope you know that.” 

A pause. 

“I didn’t.” 

Another pause. 

“However… To the universe…” 

“Jake, shut your mouth. Do you actually want to get back with him, officially, as his boyfriend?” 

“I do.” He really did. That was the only certainty that he had at the moment. That, and how awfully warm he felt under these buttons. 

Roxy crossed her arms at him, but the sharp edge of her glare had softened, and the defensive posture of her shoulders had lessened. She was coming around. 

“What makes you think he’s going to give you a second chance? Why should you even deserve it?” 

“I don’t. I’m just hoping for a miracle, honest.” 

She pouted. “How can I believe that you’ve changed? That you’re responsible now, and can suddenly carry the weight of a full blown relationship?” 

“Because I’ve done it before, for five years.” 

Roxy stared at him, eyes vacant, face blank. He reached into his pocket and fished out his phone, pulled up the first picture of Claire and himself that he could find. Roxy glanced from the ring on his finger, to the screen, and back, about three times, before looking up at his face. 

“What happened to her?”

“Passed last year.” 

Roxy frowned, a hand absently brushing through her hair, bringing it out of her face some. She looked perplexed. 

“I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s alright. You were right to say that I’m here to ruin his life; I wasn’t even thinking when I took the plane over. For whatever reason, I just thought I could see him again with little to no repercussions on his side. I was so miserable at home that I took the first opportunity to leave without giving it second thought. I’m an idiot, I know that much. I love him, and I’m an idiot. What has been can’t be fixed.” 

Roxy covered her mouth with a hand, glancing off to the center of the room, where Dirk was engaged in light conversation with some of the guests. She watched him in silence, then looked back up at Jake. 

“If you’re going to come back into his life, then do it right. Come back for good. Commit, Jake. Be the man that he needed you to have been in your early twenties.” 

He still wasn’t that man, but, dammit, if he wouldn’t try to become it. He’d give his everything to that, would dedicate his entire self to it, as much as he was able to. If Dirk ever decided to give him a second chance, he wouldn’t take it for granted. He nodded down at Roxy, his brows knit from the sheer determination coursing through his veins. 

“I will. You have my word for it.” 

The party overall wasn’t half bad. The mini toasts were delicious, the crowd looked absolutely posh, shiny and glamorous, and the cocktails were on point. He schmoozed for most of it, making new acquaintances, happening across a variety of business opportunities, and getting to mingle with the highest and finest of Texan society, all alongside Dirk, who accompanied him during most of the evening. They even ran into Dave and his troll boyfriend at one point, which gave Jake the chance to finally meet him. A handshake told much of a person, in Jake’s opinion, and this one, firm and professional, told that this troll knew exactly what he was doing. Jake grinned wide at him, half delighted by this new finding, and half drunk from the gin and tonic in his left hand. 

“So you’re Jake.” The troll started, looking unimpressed and entirely over this evening. He didn’t seem to have been enjoying himself or even wanting to stick around for as long as he had been. 

“Quite! You’re Dave’s friend.” 

“Sure.” 

“Matesprit for, like, a year, but, yeah. You can say whatever you want.” Dave corrected. He seemed too sober to be under this roof. 

“Naturally.” 

Jake was too drunk to be under this roof.

“Karkat, good news.” Dirk spoke from the sidelines, pushing his way to Jake’s side and drunkenly bumping into him in the process. Jake slung an arm across his shoulders to steady the both of them and, also, keep him close. “I think you can stay with us. I’m doing my best.” 

“I know, Dave told me.” 

“What’s that about?” He asked through a slight slur as Dirk brought a hand to the low of his back, Dirk’s face so close to his own like this, Dirk’s cologne all he could breathe. Dirk passed him a glance. 

“Politics.” Was Dirk’s simple answer that clearly explained everything. Jake nodded in an absent lie to show his thorough understanding of it. 

“You’re rich, aren’t you?” Karkat asked rhetorically, excelling in getting his attention, even if only for a brief moment. “You know exactly what’s going on.” 

“I’ll have you know, mate, that for as much as the first assumption is correct, I literally could not have less of a single idea of the first thing that’s happening in my immediate surroundings, let alone a portion of the globe.” He gulped on his gin and tonic, Dirk under his wing. “I’m flattered that you would think so, however, and appreciate you for that. You’re a swell chap; I see why Dave fancies you.” 

Karkat raised his brows, unimpressed, while Dave suppressed the growing urge to cover his face with a hand. Without the aviators on, he was far easier to read, even if Jake hadn’t particularly had any trouble before. It remained to have been seen. 

“I’m sorry, he’s a much better conversationalist when he’s sober.” Dave spoke with his boy using a low tone, to hint at secrecy, but still let the other two hear what he had to say. Jake frowned in response to it, but couldn’t find a word to defend himself. 

“I guess so.”

“Hold on, now.” The words suddenly found him. “Karkat, my good man. My good troll. What about my frankness do you not appreciate? I simply can’t see how I’ve upset you.” 

“I’m not upset, I’m just wondering if you’ve ever talked to a troll in your whole, entire life.” 

“Of course I have! Back home, I’ve spoken to many a troll, much to your amazement.” 

“Oh, really?” Karkat’s voice was stale, his eyes unimpressed. He didn’t even need to have his arms crossed since the tone of his voice already indicated that for him. “Were they polishing your floors while you did that?” 

“No, actually, they were trimming my neighbor’s yard.” 

Karkat rolled his eyes. Jake didn’t understand his vexation, all of a sudden. It felt, to him, like they were having a nice conversation about something that he couldn’t well recall up to a second ago, and Karkat’s current behavior was entirely out of line. He squared his shoulders. 

“Am I boring you, good fellow?” 

There were clear signs of anxiety on Dave’s face as the kid took his troll’s arm, and pulled him back a step. He looked to have been sweating under his blonde fringe, while Karkat just had a hard scowl on. Similarly, Dirk tugged on the back of Jake’s vest with a firm fist, his other hand splayed on Jake’s stomach, as if holding him back. Were the Striders keeping him, or the troll, from lashing out? Jake would’ve never done something like that. He was quite shocked that the brothers thought that he would. 

“Hey, um, why don’t we go somewhere else?” Dave’s voice was soft while he spoke, his attention directed entirely at his troll. Karkat’s eyes, however, remained glued to Jake’s face a second longer before forcing to glance at who addressed him. 

“We’re leaving, too.” Dirk stated from under his wing, making him pass a perplexed look around the circle, suddenly feeling at fault for having ruined the nice atmosphere between them. 

“Wait just a second, now.” He tried, but was too quickly shut down by Dirk and his brother, who bid each other farewell for the night and pulled their significant others to opposite ends of the ballroom. 

Being manhandled by Dirk with two strong hands that pushed him from the back, making him part the dense crowd on stumbling feet accompanied by maladroit shoulders that bumped his way through, made him feel like a wild animal. He tripped over himself more than once, but finally managed to turn himself around, in order to face Dirk, and get him to stop being so rude. Instead of succeeding, though, all he ended up doing was spew out useless protests and attempt at slapping Dirk’s hands away as they now pushed him backwards from the front. At that, his stumbles got worse, and when he almost fell on his arse, pulling Dirk along by the wrist, the harassment stopped, and Dirk let him be. 

Surrounded by beautiful people at all sides, he had no idea where they were in relation to the rest of the living room at this point. The front door had long disappeared from his field of vision, and all he could see was Dirk’s frown partially concealed behind the shades. 

“What’s all of this for, mate?” He sounded cross, but not too much. Even if he had wanted to, he couldn’t have been legitimately angry with this amount of alcohol coursing through his veins. Indeed, he didn’t want to. 

“You and Karkat, you two clash. I stopped a bomb from going off.” 

“Watcha mean? I don’t rightfully understand what happened there.” 

“Look, you’re rich and powerful and not even from here while his greatest achievement is dodging a life of servitude to people like you. Why did you have to talk about the gardeners?” 

“What gardeners?” 

“The trolls who work for the rich humans in your neighborhood, Jake. Have some self-awareness, man.” 

“Why, is he sensitive about that? Are trolls a touchy subject for him? Oh, Dirk, spare me. Nothing but a little kerfuffle was to go on between us, if you hadn’t completely lost the plot in the middle of it. Do you truly believe me capable of jabbing a man in the mouth?” 

“Whatever, I just didn’t want you making a scene.” 

“I wasn’t about to.” 

Dirk shook his head, and as a waiter passed them by with a tray of cocktails in hand, he reached for one, swept it gracefully off the tray. Jake just dropped his unfinished gin and tonic on it before the man left. 

“You’re off your trolley.” He commented briefly, watching Dirk knock the glass back without hesitation, drinking it all in a single go without minimal difficulty. It was almost impressive, and, maybe, it would’ve been, if he hadn’t felt so drunk and jaded all of a sudden. Dirk brought the glass back down and licked his lips. Now,  _ that _ was truly impressive. 

“I’d appreciate it if you weren’t so fucking British all the time. You’re lucky I know what you’re talking about half the time because we used to live together.” 

“Do you miss it?” 

“What?”

“Living together.” 

“No, not at all. You were a terrible roommate. You left trash on the floor and lived on the couch and I can count on my fingers how many times you wore anything other than a pair of boxers.” 

He grinned, the alcohol warm in his bloodstream and the memories flushing his cheeks. Half naked and on the couch had been the recipe of their first night together. He still remembered just how shocking it had been to have kissed Dirk for the first time, how soft his lips were, and how much more passionate the experience ended up being than he had anticipated it to. Before Dirk, he had never been with a man, and kissing one, he thought, for whatever reason, that it would’ve been aggressive, harsh and careless and desperate. Sure, after some time, their kisses became that, but the soft passion had still shocked him at first. It had flourished feelings within himself that he hadn’t even known to possess before that day. 

“Remember our first time?” 

“No.” 

He squinted. Dirk put the empty glass away as soon as another waiter walked past. 

“Surely you do.” 

“No, I really don’t. I only remember what’s important.” 

“Should I remind you, then?” His tone was low, just a tad bit flirty, but keeping it mostly conversational. He watched Dirk stare at him in response, perfectly phlegmatic, for a whole five seconds of silence. That made a slow grin tug at the corners of his lips. 

“Dirk…” 

He stepped closer, the world blurring at the corners, swaying under his feet. His hands touched Dirk’s waist, his face a centimeter away from the shades. Dirk didn’t respond.

“Can I kiss you?” 

The words left his lips as a breathy whisper, and his heart immediately began to hammer hard into his chest, threatening to make a break for it, to split his rib cage right open, shocked with the reverberations of his own voice. He felt his cheeks heat up, skin too warm on his face, hot on his hairline, making him sweat under the yellow of the overhead lamp. He rested on his elbow pushed deep into the cushion, half on his seat and half on Dirk’s, watching Dirk from above, the shades that watched him over a porcelain face. A tongue flicked over Dirk’s pretty lips before he answered. 

“Yes.” 

Small, spoken so infinitesimally small, smaller than the gap between them, but heavier than the air in Jake’s lungs. The word had barely left Dirk’s lips before Jake had sealed them with his own, their mouths pressed hard together into the softest firm kiss that Jake had ever experienced. It contradicted itself, how a man could touch so tenderly, how Dirk’s hands were so delicate in Jake’s hair, palms on his jaw and fingers through his hair, while he practically compressed the wind out of Dirk with his weight, sandwiched between Jake’s broad shoulders and the reclined backrest of the couch. 

He held Dirk by the waist, firm hands squeezing his sides, how much thicker they had become now, how much bulkier Dirk had grown during their time apart. Dirk’s hands rested on his shoulders, inert, as their tongues met, and lapped, and their bodies pressed against one another, firm, far surer of themselves now, if compared to a decade ago. He felt to be in bliss, his head in the clouds and his heart in Heaven while holding Dirk, squeezing Dirk, eating at his lips and tongue and mouth like they had been truly away from each other for almost ten years, starved of each other, stranded at an island. He kissed with the intensity of how much he had missed Dirk and was entirely met with much of the same feeling back from him. It was invigorating. It added years back to his life. 

His hands squeezed a little too tight, his fingers dug a little too deep, and Dirk pulled away from him. Their mouths met again, once, briefer, before parting. 

“That’s not how it went.” Dirk commented, his voice a whisper, making Jake grin. 

“So you remember.” 

Dirk looked annoyed for half a second before pulling him in for another kiss, harsher this time, smooth hands holding him down by the neck. His grin persisted against Dirk’s lips, into his mouth, through the meeting of their tongues. He kissed Dirk with joy in his heart and lust everywhere else. 


	5. Love me, don't leave me

The incessant ringing of his phone and the buzzing on his thigh woke him up in the morning, immediately flooded him with a pounding headache, and burned his retinas with bright light. He groaned, eyes squeezed shut, and reached down for his phone, to shut it off, and cast a curse on the caller. He grabbed it, brought it up to his chest, and as his eyes squinted open to look at the screen, something else caught his attention. In the background, behind the phone, a pair of legs, a tiny person. His blood ran cold with the shock of it, this sudden apparition. He clutched the phone to his heart in primal reaction to the startle. The little girl, however, didn’t look at all surprised. She had a glass of milk in hand. 

“Good morning.” She greeted easily, a small smile on her lips. She didn’t seem very vexed by the deafening ringing of the phone that cut through his skull like a butcher knife. 

“Morning, Rose.” 

The girl’s smile grew a bit as she nodded at the phone. 

“Won’t you get that?” 

“Do you mind?” 

“No.” 

He moved to sit up on the couch, the world spinning as he did so, making him put a hand down onto the cushions for balance. His stomach folded, he could chunder at any moment, but managed to keep himself in check. At least, for now, while guest at Roxy’s beautiful mansion. He glanced at the screen but couldn’t make out the caller, the small letters too blurry to be read. Evidently, he had lost his glasses. No surprise there. 

“Rose, would you mind reading this for me? What does it say?” 

“Incoming call from Jane Crocker.” 

“Of course. What time is it?” 

“Eight.” 

“Well good.” 

It wasn’t well good. The headache and the brightness were a fate worse than death. Still, he swiped the screen with a thumb to answer the call as hastily as his motor skills allowed him. All to get this over with before it had even begun.

“Jane, dear. How do you do?” 

“Terribly. Mildred’s back.” 

“Oh, but that’s brilliant! The children can stay with her now, rather than bother you any longer.” 

“Quite, and they are, back at their home. You didn’t, however, put her in the know of your childrens’ whereabouts, and she called me, desperate, at eight this morning, believing to have had them run off during her absence. Naturally, she called you, too, but I’m afraid it must’ve been at about two in the morning for you, when you were fast asleep.” 

Two in the morning last night, an image came to mind. His mouth firmly pressed against Dirk’s, their breathing ragged, their hips meeting hard, sounds muffled on each other’s tongues, Dirk’s nails digging into his hips and his pants halfway down his thighs. It explained why he hadn’t heard, nor felt, the call at the time. His face colored from the memories, but he managed to remain composed. 

“I apologize for my lack of tact! Let her know that, if she desires compensation for her troubles, she has all the right to any amount.” 

“I’m afraid that won’t be enough. She intends to bow out.” 

“To bow out! But we’ve had her ever since Jude was born. I’ll better her paycheck, if she desires.” 

“Jake, mate, I don’t believe it’s a matter of funds, but of principle. She told me herself that she often worries about the safety of your children when she’s not around, and that has an awful effect on her nerves. She’s bowing out for health preservation.” 

“Oh, that’s tosh. I’ll double her paycheck by the morrow.” 

Jane sighed. 

“When are you to return, anyway? Joey misses you. She doesn’t go a day without speaking highly of you.” 

His heart ached. What a foolish thing to leave his children be raised by another, any other, especially when they cared for him so dearly, and his lack of presence drove the sitter mad. The right thing to do was to return home, let Mildred go, and finesse his parenting skills, or really just acquire some. He closed his eyes, ran a hand down his tired face. Being able to raise the children by himself was merely an unachievable dream. He had no real chance at making that a reality, no matter how much he ardently wished that it were so. He sighed. This was, truly and honestly, a pickle. 

“I’ll be there tomorrow.” 

Maybe he  _ could _ let Mildred go. Maybe he could. Maybe that wouldn’t turn his life into absolute madness. Maybe he’d even be able to raise the kids by himself… He’d have to reconsider that, however, later, not hungover and not with the ghost of Dirk’s lips still tingling his face. He bid Jane a hasteful farewell before hanging up. 

There was too much crowding his thoughts at the moment. 

“You talk funny.” Rose commented, now sitting beside him on the couch. He hadn’t even noticed when she had done that. “What does tosh mean?” 

“Oh, you know. Rubbish or nonsense, the like. Now, Rose, where’s your mother?” 

“Sleeping upstairs.” 

“And Dirk?” 

“With her.” 

“Awake?” 

“No, I don’t think so.” 

“I see.” 

He should go. A cold, thorough shower, a change of clothes and a tall glass of water before getting some more rest, on the hotel bed and linen this time, sounded like Heaven to him, in such state, with no glasses and a pounding headache. He got up from the couch, turned right around to bid Rose farewell, and immediately stopped. The polite goodbyes couldn’t make it out of his mouth and his brain was screaming. Rose was but a little child, a young child, that, at the moment, only had himself for adult supervision while her mother, and the other passed out guests, slept. He glanced about, his neck suddenly warm, the collar of this shirt suddenly tight. No one, not a single servant, not a single maid. A babysitter, a housekeeper, any awake guest. Not a one. He swallowed thick. 

“Who are you looking for?” Rose asked, delicately sipping on her milk. Jake offered her a nervous smile in return. 

“Nobody! Hah! How old are you, Rose?” 

“Six.” 

“Six!” But a year older than Joey. “Quite the big, responsible girl now, are you not?” 

“Yes. I can reach the milk carton in the fridge.” 

Oh, the milk carton. Oh, she poured this herself. A memory flash of Joey trying and failing horribly to pour orange juice into a glass suddenly came to him, flew past his eyes, and had him walking over to the kitchen, hasteful, where nothing short of a huge mess awaited the servants, who, strangely enough, seemed to not have arrived yet, at plain eight in the morning. He wouldn’t judge, though, since he had no servants of his own, but that was because he sucked at this whole adult thing, and was no good at tending to a home, or two young children, or his own personal finances, while the  _ successful _ adults in this line of business, the business of life, whose grandiose homes were tended to by very talented trolls, and whose children were looked after by schooled sitters, and whose thriving success pushed him deep into a pit of despair with each passing day, made him reconsider Roxy’s situation. Upon his arrival, her home had seemed to be the epitome of personal success, yet, after a second look around, he started to doubt that, because if she didn’t have at least a handful of trolls to tend to this place, then how could she keep it so tidy and clean? Who looked after Rose? 

The kitchen was spotless. He turned around to see the little girl following him close behind. 

“Rose, dear, who poured you the milk?” 

“Myself.” 

“You did not spill it.” 

“Nope.” 

Huh. Fascinating. Perhaps, in a year, Joey, too, would be able to pour herself a glass without absolutely ruining the kitchen tiles. Jake sat down onto a nearby stool, or, rather, crumbled down alongside his broken spirits, and watched as Rose placed her drink onto the counter before climbing up the next stool over. She was resourceful, if anything. Her intelligence shocked Jake beyond a living grave. 

“Tell me, Rose. Who cares for you when your mother is unavailable?” 

“Uncle Dirk.” 

“Uncle Dirk…! Is that so?” 

Rose nodded. Her big, violet eyes were glued on his face, as if he were the most curious alien that she had ever seen. He touched his own chest, pallid, stupefied. 

“Have you not, say, a sitter, or any responsible adult figure to look after you?” 

“I have mom and uncle Dirk.” 

“Indeed, and nobody else, then?” 

“There’s cousin Dave.” 

“Cousin Dave, really?” 

“He plays the piano.” 

“The piano…” Jake vaguely recalled something about that, about Dave’s Music Major, the piano or the keyboard, maybe both, but couldn’t make out the details, or even the whole of it. He nodded back at Rose. “So he takes care of you, too.” 

Rose mirrored his nod. 

“I see, and what do you do when your mother oversleeps, such as this morning?” 

“I do what I want.” 

“Naturally. Not a troll to keep an eye on you or clean the house?” 

“You mean the television slaves?” 

“Golly Gosh, no! Not at all!” 

“But you said troll.” 

“Yes, Rose, see, trolls are very nice and very helpful people who work for you. They’re not slaves. You shouldn’t call them that, it’s rude.” 

“Mom says they’re slaves.” 

“Well… Well, ah, ah… Why don’t we go back to talking about your mother! She has no hired servants, I believe.” 

“No, she doesn’t like slavery.” 

“Of course not, of course not. Who would…” 

To think that Roxy kept the entirety of this house shining clean, brilliantly spotless and organized, all the while raising Rose into a perfect example of a respectful member of society, wholly by herself, with the occasional help of the Striders here and there, had Jake’s shoulders drooping. He truly was a failure, then, unable to do the basics required of adulthood, the simple act of showering once a day and having three whole meals. Imagine that, plus caring for two children, his finances and an entire mansion! He ran a hand through the tangled mess of his hair, feeling quite defeated, when his fingers came across an object. He pulled it out of his hair to see that those were his glasses. Embarrassing! They had been atop his own stupid head this whole time! He sighed, and put them on. Roxy fought alcoholism, took care of the house, and a child, and a  _ cat,  _ while he couldn’t even find his own glasses a moment ago. 

This was truly depressive. He couldn’t have been more embarrassed for himself if he had wanted to. 

“Alright, Rose. I believe I must be going.” If Roxy didn’t see the need to leave Rose with supervision while sleeping through the morning, then Jake wasn’t to contradict that. He got up from the stool. “If you need anything, give me a bell.” 

Did the Lalondes even have his number? Roxy had probably deleted it out of her life, so, just in case that she had, he picked up a piece of paper from the nearby counter and wrote it down, pushed it over to the six year old across from him. Rose picked it up with interest in her smart little eyes. 

“I’ll see myself out, don’t you worry. Ta for now!” 

Rose laughed. “Ta for now!” 

Back at the hotel, a nice, long, cold shower treated him well. He let the water soak his hair through and run down his body while he, inevitably, thought of Mildred, the kids, and the manor. Hearing that she wanted to bow out had been the worst possible start to this day, so he decided that it wouldn’t be the start of today, he wouldn’t let it. After this, he’d go back to bed, and sleep some more, and only then, around twelve in the afternoon, would his day truly begin. With no trace of a headache, no upsetting news, and no worries, only a tall glass of water and the air conditioner on high. Mildred, bowing out, after two whole years of service. He shook his head. He’d never be able to trust anyone else with the kids, not with the amount of time that he usually spent away from them. 

Mildred had been godsend during Claire’s bedridden state, looking after the newborn and the four-year-old while Jake worried himself to death over Claire, pacing the room that she slept in, living and breathing that hospital more than his own house. It didn’t feel his without her there, anyway. It had never quite felt his own; the manor of his grandparents, built by  _ their _ grandparents, styled and modeled after their ancient tastes. For as much as Jake didn’t care for it, while his grandma had been alive, he couldn’t have helped the feeling of belonging that that manor had always given him whenever she had told him that it’d be his one day. All his, to build a family in. He rested his head on the cool, white tiles of the shower, and sighed. Without Mildred, he wouldn’t know what to do. The kids would miss her. 

Oh, but the kids missed him, too. Joey missed him the most, always had. Being the firstborn, she had seen the glorious days of their young family, at the beaches of Cancun, the resorts of Ibiza, the streets of Milan, and how happy they had been then. Perfect, literally perfect. He wondered if Joey remembered any of that, and if she missed it as much as he did. He had never thought to ask; only knew that she missed her mother when she, here and again, asked after her, if she  _ truly _ wouldn’t be coming back, and if Joey, poor thing, could do anything about it. Did Joey somehow think her mother’s death was her fault? Jake wouldn’t know, the inconsiderate buffoon! No dialogue with his own bloody kids, when one of them had nearly mastered the English lexicon. It saddened him, his own fatherly failures. 

Now, what would he do about blasted Mildred? He couldn’t keep her. Apparently, no amount of riches in the world would keep her sitting for the children, so what now? He’d never be able to find somebody else, which meant… He’d have to raise the children, oh, God! Oh, God! Raise them himself, with no help, only the three of them and a mostly abandoned mansion! The stairs that Joey always tripped on, the garden where Jude always ate strange bugs from, his utter and complete lack of attention to the dangers that hounded the kids every single day! He was hyperventilating. This wouldn’t do, this would never do. They couldn’t stay there, if he were to look after his kin quite alone. They’d have to find somewhere else, somewhere manageable, like an apartment in the city. He shuddered, suddenly. Being stuck inside with the two kids for days on end, until they grew up, until the rest of his life! The thought itself was claustrophobic enough to have him leaning a hand on the wall, gasping dramatically for breath. No, somewhere else, anywhere else! A small apartment only seemed like, and truly  _ was,  _ a good idea with Dirk in it, to make him company, to kiss him late afternoons, to sleep with late at night. Ah, he’d miss Dirk. He’d miss Dirk. 

Blimey, his oath! Hadn’t he made an oath to Roxy, to love and adore Dirk, fully and completely, committed this time around, serious this time around, until Dirk didn’t want him anymore? Hadn’t he? He’d have to stay. Oh, God, he’d have to stay. He shouldn’t have sworn oath, not this one, that he couldn’t reconcile with his  _ other _ life, the children, the situation in Britain. Dirk didn’t even know! He grabbed at his own chest, quite unable to breathe, feeling himself limpsey again. Oh, but Dirk had never mentioned anything about taking him back; they had only agreed to lunch at Benji’s and an ineluctable encounter in one of Roxy’s ground floor bathrooms the night before, under the intoxicating haze of alcohol and lust. Dirk’s lips on his own, the kiss so firm, so present, so hungry, and his fingertips digging into the flesh of Dirk’s hips, his big thighs, the pressure that they made around his own waist. His eyes slipped closed with the memories. He could still feel the tingle on his own skin of Dirk’s hands grabbing his face, grabbing his back, fisting into his fine vest. He’d have to check it for damage later. 

Dirk knew he had to leave soon, and his return certainly wouldn’t be a surprise. He made the shower colder before stepping out of it. 

He woke up, hours later, to the loud sound of heavy, angry knocking at his door. So loud, and so angry, that it startled him good, had his dreams jumbled in shock, and his body shooting up to sit on the mattress. His heart was beating so fast that he felt to be on the verge of an aneurism. The knocking was truly a banging, almost as if an entire body had been throwing itself against it, trying to break in. A palm found his chest as he finally managed to breathe in, eyes wide, his soul slowly returning into his own body. He had just tasted the golden gates of Heaven. The light had been there.

_ “Jake!” _ Loud, angry, fuming. Dirk wanted to kill him with his two bare hands, for whatever reason, and Jake, perfectly oblivious to those reasons, still agreed, one hundred percent, with Dirk’s rage. Of course he was at fault for something, of course he deserved this well justified behavior from the man he adored. Naturally! Dirk was more than right to be angry! Jake left the bed to put on some underwear. 

“Jake, you son of a bitch, open this  _ fucking _ door!” 

Dirk never shouted, never raised his voice, never as much as altered it from a monotone and disinterested illusion, so this must’ve been huge. Jake must’ve screwed up royally here, somehow, at some point, probably during his inebriated state, if he had to guess. Either way, still entirely gormless, he was honestly not surprised with himself. Finding some boxers, he put them on, and went answer the door. 

As expected, Dirk, huffing, fuming, shoved him first, nearly had him falling back on his arse, but with perfect balance check, Jake staggered and stood, only to be grabbed by the neck next, two strong, pale hands holding onto it firmly, as an act of harmless intimidation, because they weren’t squeezing. If Dirk really wanted, he could easily strangle Jake to death, and for as alarming of a thought as that was, Jake wasn’t worried about it. Not scared in the slightest. Dirk’s rightful, and fair, better judgement had his undivided trust. Behind the shades, Dirk’s brows were knit in a hard, deep scowl, and under them, his lips were pressed into a thin line. Jake touched his wrists, not saying a word. Let the trial begin. 

“What’s this  _ bullshit _ about you leaving tomorrow?” Dirk shouted, squeezing his neck once, staggering him back a step. Jake’s hands tightened the grasp around Dirk’s wrists in response, his eyes doubling up in size. Oh, Rose must’ve told him. Dirk shoved him back by the neck before letting go of him entirely, a good two meters between them, from the force of the shove. Dirk’s hands found his blonde locks and buried themselves into them. He looked… Heartbroken. 

Jake took a step toward him, voice soft. 

“I must go, Dirk. There’s an emergency--”

“Oh, really?” Dirk cut him off sharp, hands dropping back down. “After last night, now there’s suddenly an emergency. Seriously? You honestly expect me to fall for that? God, Jake, if you’re going to lie to my face, at least be fucking creative, man.” 

“No, Dirk, I’m being honest. The sitter is about to leave and I have to be there to stop her! I’m not ditching you after last night, I’m truthfully in a bit of a situation at the moment. I don’t quite know what to do and I can feel myself losing the game of life here. It’s rather upsetting, mate.” 

Dirk’s lips parted, but no words came out of them. The scowl in between his brows lessened. 

“Sitter?” The word left him as if from his astral projection. “Babysitter?” 

“Yes, I’ve two children. I didn’t tell you before, because, well, they didn’t come up, for one, but also, and mostly, because they’re the reason I’m here. I needed a break, and I feel bloody awful for saying that, but, God, Dirk, they drive me mad. I lose all contact with humanity when I’m locked away with the two of them. I feel as if in a cage at a zoo, an exhibit, not human. It’s… It’s wholly and completely draining and now that the sitter wishes to bow out, I don’t know what to do. I’m losing my damn mind.” His voice trembled about as much as his own hands did, his body feeling weaker, having him sit down onto the edge of the bed and cover his face in both palms. The feeling of absolute failure from before had now quadrupled. 

“Why didn’t you bring them with you?” Dirk asked from above, voice lowered, softer, calmer. There wasn’t a single trace of the anger from a second ago in it. 

Jake removed the hands from his face to look up at him. 

“They are my prison, is why I didn’t bring them. Were you listening, love?” 

“I was. Look, Jake, have you tried not running from them, and, instead, building your life around them? You know, like a parent would?” 

“Oh, please, Dirk, spare me the lecture, as if you were a specialist at parenting when you haven’t a single child of your own. You sound like an utter bloody twat.” 

“Okay, fuck you, I’m trying to help. I’ve been through this with Roxy, so I know what the fuck I’m talking about. You can’t keep pushing them away forever, Jake, hoping they’ll become somebody else’s responsibility. They won’t, now get a fucking grip, grow a fucking pair, and father your children. It’s hard to raise them by yourself, I know, I’ve seen Roxy struggle, but you can do it if you have help. You should’ve brought them with you.” 

“I have help, I have a sitter who looks after them for me, now ask me if that changes a single thing. Ask me if I know Jude’s favorite color. Ask me if the manor is, in any shape or form, in any kind of respectable living condition. Ask me if I’ve trimmed the yard once in my life. Ask me if I know what one-year-olds can and cannot eat. I don’t, and I haven’t. I’m not fit to be a father, Dirk. I don’t know what I was thinking.” 

“Yes, you are, Jake. You just need to dedicate yourself to it. Stop being a baby about this.” 

“Golly, Dirk, you’re being awfully insensitive to my situation. I’d like to see  _ you _ take care of them, quite by yourself, like I have, locked away in that sami-abandoned mansion, growing madder by the minute. See if you’ll call me a baby then.” 

“I’ll do it.” 

“You won’t survive a day.” 

“You know better than to doubt me.” 

Jake slit his eyes up at him, suspicious. Realistically, he would love to see Dirk try, and crash, and burn. Eat his own words dry. The thought was alluring.

“Would you like to fly to Britain with me tonight, then?” 

Dirk considered that. 

“Alright, but I have to be back by Monday.” 

“That’s barely a weekend with them.” 

“Yeah, and it’s more than a day. I’ll double your challenge.” 

“Well good, Dirk. Well good. We’ll see how you do.” 


	6. Entr'acte: Winchester

The plane landed in Winchester at two in the afternoon, local time. The Cooper had stayed at the airport car park, awaiting his return, and took them to the manor with relative speed. The city passed them by out the windows, the hustle and bustle of downtown slowly merging with the calmer living of his address and surroundings. More green, less people. They were home before sunset, the low afternoon rays lighting up the neighborhood, and making good use of Dirk’s shades. Jake had pulled the visor down for most of the ride, and just left it there as they arrived, blocking the sun from hitting his eyes. He parked on the driveway, behind the jeep, and hopped out with Dirk mirroring him from the passenger seat. 

Looking at the front of the manor, Dirk whistled. 

“You weren’t joking when you called this an abandoned mansion. Do kids come trick-or-treating a lot here?” 

“Belt up, Dirk. I know this place has seen better days, now don’t rub it in.” He spoke while removing their luggage from the trunk and setting it all down onto the pavement. Dirk slung his bag over a shoulder, then carried one of Jake’s inside. Jake followed with the rest of his luggage towing behind himself. 

He unlocked the front door and, as it always seemed to do in front of guests, it got stuck while he tried to push the right leaf open. The big, heavy mahogany scraped at the flooring, getting stuck there, but, at least, not bringing the other leaf with it. That remained securely bolted in place. 

“This blasted old thing!” He muttered harshly under his breath, shoving the door further open with his shoulder. “Always goes all to pot when you bloody need it!” He threw his weight onto the mahogany a couple of times, growing more vexed with each one, until it unhinged from the flooring. It swung heavily and hit the adjacent wall with his success. He huffed. The loud sound it made was quickly followed by the weeping of a child. Jude, if he had to bloody guess. 

Dirk, standing idly by his side, had the widest grin on his dumb, stupid face, looking delighted at all of it. Jake wanted to jab him. 

“Pa!” Joey shouted from the living room, getting up to run for him. From the looks of it, she had been sitting on the big pillows that decorated the floors with Mildred and her brother, whose frantic crying still echoed all about the room. Joey zipped over and hugged his legs with the strength of a passionate child, just shy of making him stagger back a step. He patted her hair in response. 

“All right, Joey? Did you miss me, bug?” 

“I did!” She squeezed his legs once before letting go of them, and taking his hand instead. Her big, black eyes eventually fell on Dirk, standing by his side. She reached her free hand over to him. “Oh, how do you do? I’m Joey Claire.” 

Dirk lifted his brows, taking and shaking her tiny hand for a greeting. 

“Nice to meet you, Joey Claire. I’m Dirk Strider.” 

“Are you a friend of Pa’s, Dirk Strider?” 

Dirk grinned.

“You could say that.” 

“Mildred!” Jake interrupted the two as the woman slowly walked over, her arms holding the crying toddler close to her chest, in an attempt to soothe him. “I’d like to have a word with you.” He extended a hand to indicate the blonde next to him. “This is my good mate Dirk. You may give him Jude for the duration of our talk.” 

The sitter briefly greeted Dirk before handing him the baby, which he took upon his chest with more visible confidence than he ought to, for a childless person. He bounced Jude on an arm while softly shushing him, his free hand reaching down for Joey to take. 

“C’mon, Joey Claire. Let the adults talk. We can do something fun instead.” 

Joey grinned and let go of her father’s hand to take Dirk’s, following him deep into the living room. Both Jake and Mildred watched the three of them, in silence, reach the bowels of the room, before looking back at each other, Jake motioning to the stairway with a hand. 

“Would you care to see me in my study?” 

Mildred nodded and took the stairs before him. 

In the study, and with the door closed behind the two of them, Mildred saw herself to a seat while Jake took the one across from her, on the other side of his sturdy wooden desk. He hadn’t been in this room in years. The last time, his grandfather had been sitting on this very armchair, alive, looking him in the eye, and telling him of his future inheritance. Foretelling the following years with blood-curdling precision.

“Jane told me over the phone that you wish to bow out. Is that so?” 

“I’m afraid it is, Mr. English. As you know, my mother has been rather ill for the last few months, as to be expected of her age, and I’d like to stay with her. These might be her last years.” 

“I understand. I’m terribly sorry about that. How old is she?” 

“Eighty-seven.” 

Both of his grandparents had died at eighty-nine, and ninety-two. He nodded solemnly. 

“I wish her all the best.” And he also understood why Mildred refrained from mentioning her worries in regard to his children, his absence, and what that entailed. She had manners, after all. “Do you not know any sitter of loyal background to namedrop, perhaps take your place? You’ve been of great help to me for these last two years, Mildred, and I’m not sure how to proceed without you.” 

A small smile graced her face. 

“You’ll do wonders as a father, Mr. English, you only needn’t be afraid of your own children. I’m sure you can make it quite on your own, but, instead, I see you cowering away from them, never staying home. Why?”

He frowned. Oh, she didn’t know the half of it. 

“I’m not sure of that myself, Mildred.” 

“Forgive my prying, Mr. English, but… Does the manor remind you of her?” 

He didn’t answer. He blinked, his eyes seeming to widen at her question, his brows raise the tiniest bit. His breathing ceased for a heartbeat. 

The manor reminded him of her. 

Simple, heartbreaking, and true. He hadn’t realized it until now, something that should’ve been more obvious to him than to anybody else, dangling right under his nose, this entire time. The manor reminded him of Claire, of course! Of course! The mother of his children, the one who had lived here with him, crucial part of the family that had taken over after his grandmother’s death. They didn’t feel like a family without Claire, not anymore. Not for a while. She had breathed life into this place, and it felt dead without her. Jake leaned back onto his seat. 

“I suppose you’re right.” 

Mildred slowly got up from her chair. 

“When can I go, Mr. English?” 

“At this very moment, if you so wish. I’ll make the deposit for you.” 

She smiled. 

“Thank you. I hope you find it within yourself to overcome the fear of your children. They love you.” 

Mildred turned around and saw herself out. 

Jake remained seated on his grandfather’s chair for a while longer, his breath coming out longer, his sighs more obvious with the passing minutes. He was coming to terms with something. It roamed around in his mind, passed through the gears of his brain, the pistons grounded it into powder, the conveyer belts delivered the powder into a big cauldron filled with scorching syrup, where it disappeared into the black gooey nothingness of the mixture. It existed, and then it didn’t. 

He’d have to get rid of this house. 

Downstairs, Joey’s voice echoed through the living room from the open sliding doors that led into the garden. She sounded delighted, her loud tone only pausing here and there for the quiet response that didn’t make it out of the garden, a conversation only half leaked into the house on her part. Jake crossed the living room carefully, his feet solely stepping on the randomized tapestry that covered the better portion of the floor, as not to be heard. He approached the open sliding doors in silence, listening to Joey’s voice on the meanwhile, close enough now to see her skipping about in her yellow rain boots, Dirk sitting on the porch, watching her with Jude on his lap. 

“Dekko!” Joey shouted, pointing in the air with her little hand. “Le papillon! Mon ami, si beau, le papillon! Flying, up there! Dirk Strider, Dirk, regarde-le! Do you see him?” 

“Blue and white? I see him.” 

“Il est belle!” 

Jake could see Dirk’s grin from his concealment behind the curtains and the drapes. His heart swelled with it. 

“Who taught you French?” Dirk asked, his eyes trained on the girl running happily around the garden. Her grin was radiant. 

“Ma did.” 

“Can you teach me something to say? You sound very poetic.” 

Joey laughed. “Poetic? I’m not poetic. Ma was, I’m not. Did you know she could sing beautifully? Her voice was like an angel’s. She sang to me, peu m’importent les problèmes, mon amour, puisque tu m’aimes.” 

“Did she write that?” 

“Non, Edith Piaf.” 

“Ah. You’re smart, Joey Claire.” 

“Thank you, Dirk Strider. Pa!” Joey’s eyes fell on him by accident, her grin widening at the sight. In response to it, Jake stepped out of his busted concealment. “Are you here to join us?” 

He passed a glance over to Dirk, who patted the spot next to him on the porch, expectantly. He smiled, walking toward the invitation. 

“I suppose so.” 

“Brilliant! I shall perform to you my newest ballet.” 

The four of them stayed out there, enjoying the sunlight and Joey’s intelligent remarks, for most of the afternoon. The sun lowered in the horizon, and the shadows grew longer across the unkempt lawn, shielding Joey from sunburn as she continued to pirouette and somersault happily about, in what she called to be her ballet performance. She had never actually taken any classes, only watched ballerinas on the television, and accompanied her parents to a few ballets when she was younger, already walking by herself, in between the two loving adults, one hand to hold each. Jake should probably consider offering her the option of ballet classes at one point or another. Maybe after this whole sitter-less situation solved itself out.

Eventually, after the sun had completely set and the wind had picked up a cooler breeze, Joey mentioned being hungry. Dirk invited her inside, saying that he’d make her something special. Something American. That instantly piqued her interest and had her running inside for the surprise. 

The kitchen wasn’t as much of a mess now as it had been a few days ago, when Mildred hadn’t been around. There were no trash bags to complicate navigation and there still seemed to be some food in the fridge, some cans still up in the cupboards. Jake decided that the pantry wasn’t worth checking, since Dirk just pulled every cupboard open and scrutinized everything in the fridge before starting the hazardous process that was his cooking. The final result had always tasted incredibly, but experiencing the messy process never gave off the idea that Dirk knew what he was doing. To this day, Jake still wasn’t sure whether Dirk actually followed mental recipes or if he just made stuff up as he went along, and happened to have a natural culinary gift. As it always seemed to be with Dirk, he probably had a natural prowess for literally everything. Either that, or the recipe was just pulled up on the shades over his eyes. Maybe he accessed damage through it, too. Jake would never know and, frankly, the mystery was entertaining. 

In the end, Dirk served them some sloppy joes. Joey found the gooey texture fascinating, and got the better portion of her face covered in it, only managing to keep her clothes clean by some divine miracle. Dirk reassured Jake that toddlers were supposed to have a lot of meat, or just any iron-rich food, and let Jude get himself absolutely drenched with the innards of the sandwich. Jake watched the armageddon from behind his own plate, mentally resigning himself from cleaning duty. This was Dirk’s aptitude test, after all. He shouldn’t be helping. 

The sloppy joe tasted even better with that thought roaming about in his head. 

Dirk bathed and changed the children before bed and his seemingly natural ability with them gnawed at Jake. It almost made him mad. He watched Dirk jump over the obstacles with flying colors, handling the children as if he were in any way experienced at it, as if he had done this a million times before. That was when Rose came to mind, and, sure, Dirk had helped with her, Jake knew that, but helping was far from being compared to the raising of a child. Changing diapers and making dinner was helping, teaching a whole language and the ways of society was raising, and the fact that Jake couldn’t do either angered him. It angered him with himself, obviously, his own proficiency in failure. He watched Dirk accomplish in a few hours what would’ve taken him over half a day to get around to doing. 

One flight up the stairs, Dirk put Jude down on the floor, to stand for himself, and gave Joey’s hand to Jake. Green eyes immediately met with the shades, and he didn’t need to look down to know that Joey was also very intensely staring up at Dirk. 

“Can you put them in bed? I need a shower.” Voice smooth and calm, almost a whisper between the two of them, drifting above the children. Jake nodded in reply, feeling a tug on his trouser leg from Jude, assisting his own balance, the knowledge of it something absent in his mind. He slipped his free hand around Dirk’s neck and pulled him into a kiss, eyes closed, mouth firmly pressed to another. It was brief, but heartfelt, and when they parted, he felt something. Appreciation. Gratitude. They naturally leaned away from each other, still in silence, a small smile on Dirk’s lips. Dirk licked it before turning around to find a showerhead. The manor had about ten bathrooms, so he wouldn’t have trouble with that. 

The luggage had been carried upstairs, by Jake himself, and placed in his bedroom, but, in retrospect, and as he entered it with the children in tow, he probably should’ve chosen a different room. This one was a mess, with clothes strewn everywhere, over the furniture, spilling out of the wardrobes, both Jake’s and the children’s, no decoration and a bassinet in the middle of it all. The mess gave Jake an instant headache just from looking at it, and being reminded of it, now self-conscious because they had a special guest joining them for the weekend. There was no conceivable way to fix this before the end of Dirk’s shower, however eternal those usually were, so he probably needed a quick change of plans. Forget this room, just grab any random guest room to pretend to be his own for the night, and have the children sleep in their respective rooms for once, something that hadn’t happened in literal years. Or had it? Where did the children sleep with Mildred sitting for them? Jake didn’t even bloody  _ knew.  _ He pinched the bridge of his nose. That was, without a doubt, a headache forming. 

Joey jumped into the European king bed, her little body bouncing once on the mattress with her featherlight weight. Jake watched her from the doorframe. 

“You like him.” Joey stated, wearing a smug grin on her cheeky little face. That conquered a smile out of Jake. 

“Of course I do. Now, get off that bed, we’re not sleeping here tonight.” He spoke while reaching a hand in her direction, intended for her to take. Joey gave him a confused look before hopping off and onto the ground. 

“Why not?” 

“Look around, darling. Is this any way to treat a guest?” 

Joey glanced about herself, walking over to him on the meanwhile. 

“No, it’s rather a mess in here. Guests only deserve the best.” 

“Precisely! So, what to do? Which room should he sleep in?” 

Joey hummed in her thought, holding onto her father’s fingers as she glanced up and down the hallway, at the various doors that lined it. She tilted her head askew before pointing at an ajar door, about halfway down. 

“There, Mildred’s room.”

“Not Mildred’s room!”

“Pa, it must be the best one if she chose it.” 

“Did she bid you farewell before leaving?”

“She did.”

“What did she say?”

“That she’s going home to care for her Ma.” 

“Precisely.”

“Might she die?”

“Who, Mildred?”

“No, her Ma!” 

“Oh, perhaps. Perhaps so. The possibility is high, but don’t worry about that. Let’s focus on the moment.” 

They walked further into the hallway, but not to Mildred’s old room. Instead, to the door right across from it, and into that abandoned, dusty, claustrophobic chamber. Jake could barely breathe in there, and Joey immediately sneezed as they let themselves in. His first instinct was to open a window, or, better yet, the sliding glass doors to the balcony, and let some new air in, a breeze to sweep the dust away. Drawing the curtains for that had him coughing, and the breeze wasn’t harsh enough to rustle the linen anew. Even Jude was sneezing, his case intermittent. The three of them walked out onto the balcony for fresh air. 

“Terrible idea, disastrous!” 

“Mildred’s room is the only clean one in the house.” Joey commented, trying to make that sound like an innocent remark rather than a jab at her father, but failing. Jake glanced down at her to make sure of the smirk on her round face, and was perfectly met with it. He shook his head. 

“Off to her room, I suppose.” 

Joey wasn’t wrong; Mildred’s old room was in perfect living conditions, with the bed neatly made, the floors clear of junk and clutter, and the wardrobes wholly empty. All dusted off, and shining clean! This would do well. Jake drew the curtains, was not met with dust on his face, and decided that he liked this room. Turning to Joey, he saw her climb into bed. 

“Uh-uh, off the bed with you! This is the guest room, and you have your own.” 

“But, Pa, I don’t like it there.” 

“Why not? It has a perfectly breathable atmosphere, I believe. Last I saw of it, it seemed habitable.” 

“That’s all right, but it’s empty and cold and I don’t like it.” 

“What if Jude is to sleep there with you? We can move the crib.” 

“No! That’d be dreadfully worse! He cries in his perturbed sleep, as you’re quite aware.” 

“Yes, of course, but, you see, Joey, you can’t share my bed forever. Soon you’ll be a grown up, and how will you sleep by yourself then?” 

“I’ll figure it out when the time comes.” 

“Well, I believe you should practice beforehand, as not to embarrass yourself later.” 

Joey pouted, crossing her arms over her chest in protest. 

“Now, now, Joey, don’t be cross. Help me bring the bags over, then you can figure out how to spend tonight in your bed. Do you want the door open?” 

She hopped off the mattress, swiftly following him out the room and onto the hallway. Jude took a few steps in their direction, but ultimately stayed behind. They wouldn’t be long, and Jake wasn’t worried. Chances of Jude somehow falling into a disastrous accident on the meanwhile were minimal. 

“If I must, and there is no changing your mind, then, yes. I’d like the door open, and the little light on, the pig face in the hallway, do you know the one? And I want your door open, too.” 

“My door?”

“Yes. Aren’t you to sleep with Dirk Strider?” 

“Oh. Yes, I believe so.” 

“Then I want your door open.” 

They brought the luggage from Claire’s old chamber to Dirk’s guest room, coming across Jude on the way, and taking his hand to pull him along. Jake left his own bags on the ground, and placed Dirk’s atop the writing desk. Jude entertained himself with the zippers of Jake’s luggage while Joey opened one, and leisurely dug through its contents. Jake changed out of his clothes while the children were occupied with making a mess. 

“Do you love him?” Joey asked, her voice small, but earnest. Jake turned around to look at her. 

“Yes, Joey. I do.” 

“What about Ma? Do you not love her anymore?” 

“Of course I do. I’ll love her forever, darling, but you have to understand that your mother isn’t coming back.”

“I quite know that.” Joey paused, her eyes trained on the disinteresting contents of the bag, various clothing items all jumbled up together. “Did I drive her away?” 

“No, no. Of course not. It was out of our hands. She got sick, do you remember? She was in the hospital for a long time.” 

“It wasn’t my fault?”

“Absolutely not.” 

“So, then, is Dirk Strider… What is Dirk Strider?” Joey’s black little eyes glanced up at him under a frown, glinting in the yellow of the overhead lamp. Jake, in his pajama pants, pulled a shirt on before taking a seat on the floor right next to her. He rested a hand atop her head, their eyes sincerely locked. 

“I don’t know myself what he is yet, not exactly, but I know that I love him very much.” 

Joey tilted her head aside. 

“Did you leave to go see him?” 

“Yes, and I thought him so great that I brought him to meet you, hoping you’ll agree with me on that.” 

A shy little grin pulled the corner of Joey’s lips up, showing off her perfect baby teeth. 

“He is rather great.”

At that, Jake grinned wide, making Joey’s grin start to take full effect on her face. 

“I’m delighted you think so! You like him?”

“Quite. He speaks funny.” 

“Ah, yes. Americans.” 

Joey laughed. 

By the time Dirk returned from his shower, Jude was sound asleep in his crib, in his own room, with the door open, and both Joey and Jake were sitting on her bed, in her supposedly empty and cold room. With the amount of personal belongings, toys and decorations and teddy bears and the like, that were bundled up in piles all across the floor, in every corner, this room didn’t look very empty to Jake. It also, every the afternoon, got flooded with the warmest rays of sunlight, seeping in through the wide windowpanes that lined the far side, so it wasn’t very cold, either. A little colder at night, if compared, but still nice. Jake didn’t see what she meant. 

“Jake?” Dirk called from down the hallway, his smooth voice echoing nicely about. Jake would never get sick of hearing it. 

“In here!” Both he and Joey answered in unison, the little girl hopping off of her bed the moment Dirk’s voice reached them. Jake, however, kept her from leaving with two hands on her belly. 

“Now, now. Remember, you’re sleeping in here tonight.” 

“Oh, I know. I’d only like to bid him goodnight.” 

“All right, then.” 

Joey ran out of the room, so Jake followed her, leaning on the doorway as she gunned straight for Dirk, all the way down the hall. He watched Dirk, only clad in a white towel that hung low on his hips, lean down and pick up Joey under her arms, lifting her up into the air, making her whoop and giggle, before bringing her to his chest. She hugged him around the neck, her little legs a firm grip around his ribcage. He barely had to hold her. Judging by the size of his biceps and the thickness of his torso, he probably didn’t have any trouble with that at all. Jake watched him walk over, then put Joey down between them. 

“You have a tattoo!” Joey exclaimed while pointing up at it. Dirk passed a brief glance at his own shoulder in response. 

“Yeah. Your dad and I got these together.” 

“Really? But Pa’s had his since… Since ever.” 

Dirk grinned. “I know.” 

Jake gave him a light push. “Go on, now, Dirk, go put on some clothes. Joey’s bedtime has long since passed.” 

“Oh, Dirk Strider, goodnight! I’ll see you at sunrise.” 

“Hopefully not that early, Joey Claire.” 

“Go, Dirk, now!” Jake spoke while pushing him again, this time more forceful, actually getting him to move. 

Dirk and Joey waved each other goodbye before Dirk turned to enter the guest room, and Joey turned to enter her own. Jake followed her to bed and tucked her in. 

“May I shout for you, if I must?” She asked, her big, round eyes fixed up at him. He pulled her thin, summer blanket up to her chest, covering her little body. 

“If you  _ must,  _ then, yes.” 

She smiled. He planted a kiss on her forehead, bid her goodnight, and left for the guest room across the hallway. 

Inside, Dirk was just finishing pulling his pants up, but Jake didn’t pay that much mind. His legs pushed him over to the bed first thing, and collapsed his body face-first onto the mattress, blackness immediately finding his eyes and a sigh escaping his lungs. Dirk snorted somewhere at the foot of the bed, and Jake could picture the minute smirk on his face to accompany it. His heart jumped at the mental image, and he immediately found himself cursed. Cursed with how much he actually meant every confession of his true feelings for this white, blonde American.

“So.” Dirk started, his low voice making Jake’s heart melt. “Rate me.” 

Jake flipped over to lay on his back as Dirk sat down at the foot of the bed, on the corner of the mattress, shirtless still. Shirtless  _ still. _ Lord, Lord, how much thicker had his sides become, how much bigger had his beautiful arms gotten. He had gone from a thin nineteen-year-old to a hunk of a man, and Jake still caught himself stupefied over it. This last decade had treated Dirk well, apparently. He hoped that his return would only make it better. 

“Oh, you’re a straight ten, my friend. Wonderfully dishy.” 

If he sounded dreamy, it was because he absolutely felt it, too. 

Dirk made the face where he was rolling his eyes under the shades as if Jake didn’t know about it. 

“I meant babysitting, but thanks for the British compliment.” 

“Of course! Ten for babysitting, as well! Perfectly spectacular, astonishingly remarkable, truly magnificent! You’re a better father than I ever will be.” 

“Shut up, don’t say that.” 

“How much do you want to fill the position? Two hundred pounds an hour, vacation time off, and a brand new car at the end of the year?” 

Dirk hummed in mock consideration while moving to lay down next to Jake. He removed the shades, folded them, and placed them on the bedside table before laying on his side, orange on green, finally candid. Raw, and present, with no filter in between. 

“I want to know what’s going on with you. What happens next.” 

“What happens next? You know better than to ever ask me about my own future, Dirk. I barely know what’s to happen tomorrow.” 

“Jake, you’ve been responsible for your damn self your whole life, and, now, you’re responsible for the future of another two. Don’t you think it’s high time to grow the fuck up and start thinking long term? Planning long term? Sure, you might not know what to have for breakfast tomorrow morning, whatever, but what are you going to do with your life, man? You gotta turn this shit around, and fast, before the kids figure out that they’re a hair away from a social services visit.” 

His blood ran cold, his cheeks heat up with embarrassment. Dirk knew exactly what he was talking about, speaking as a person that had their life together, to someone who absolutely didn’t. Who was surprised to wake another day with a roof over their head and living, breathing, healthy children at their feet. The raw sincerity of Dirk’s words hurt, but he was right. Jake  _ had _ to grow the fuck up before it’d be too late. Before he fucked up something irreversible. He rubbed at his eye, bone-weary all of a sudden.

“Well, I’m not exactly sure what to do yet, down to the detail, but what I know so far is that I’m getting rid of this place, this horrid manor, this prison cell, and moving somewhere manageable. Somewhere, like…” 

“America.” 

He stared at Dirk, lips parted, but muted. Throat entirely wordless. Dirk simply stared back at him, face perfectly emotionless, the real life version of the most beautiful porcelain doll. Jake blinked. 

“I was actually thinking more like downtown Winchester…” 

“Just move to America, Jake. You have friends there who can help you with the children, and hold your hand through adulthood, and by friends I mean Roxy, but that last part I mean me. Roxy would never touch your hand.” 

“Dirk, I can’t just up and move to America like that. What if Joey doesn’t like it there? What if it’s too great a change to be done all at once?” 

“Then bring her to visit it first. Come back with me tomorrow, and bring the two kids with.” 

“Disastrous!” 

They heard the quick pitter-patter of Joey’s footfalls slapping onto the wooden flooring before they actually saw her. The two glanced at the door to watch her run up to it, her little hands grabbing onto the frame as she came to a sudden halt, a big smile on her face. 

“Yes!” She hollered in excitement, bouncing up and down in place. “Yes, I want to see America! I want to see it, Pa! Let’s go, tomorrow!” 

Jake turned to offer Dirk an unimpressed look. The blonde, on the other hand, seemed delighted. 

“Look what you’ve done, now, Strider. Fix it.” He whispered across the mattress between the two of them. 

“Alright.” Dirk said, moving up to rest on an elbow. His orange eyes were trained on the child, wide, round, shining. Jake had forgotten just how beautiful orange could be. “We’re going to America, Joey Claire.” 

Joey whooped, throwing her tiny fists in the air, jumping at the door frame. Jake, in response, gave Dirk a very serious, very pointedly frustrated look that went entirely ignored. Dirk was too busy grinning at Joey’s excitement to notice, so Jake grabbed him by the jaw and forced their eyes to meet. 

It took strength to not pull Dirk down for a kiss. 

“We’re not done discussing this.” 

“You want details?” 

“Yes! How am I to care for children at a foreign land? What will they eat, where will we stay? We can’t simply jump into the first flight to Houston tomorrow and figure things out as we go along. You  _ just _ told me to plan ahead, Dirk. What are you doing, being impulsive?” 

“I’m not being impulsive, I have this all figured out.” 

“Oh, do you, now.” 

“Yes. You’d like to move, right? But you’re afraid that the kids won’t adapt to America, that’s fine. We’ll go back tomorrow, and you can all stay at my apartment while you look for stupid expensive places to buy, ways to sell the mansion, and how you’ll manage the business remotely. I know you have talented businessmen who care for your finances, you’re fine, and, anyway, that’s not what I mean. Since the market value of this mansion will probably exceed the market value of any smaller place to own in Houston, the difference can be invested in an American business, and since that’ll be a good capital sum, you’ll be able to apply for a green card on the premises of entrepreneurship. That’ll grant you a residency permit, which will allow for the house to be lived in, and, yeah, I’ll go over all of this with you again later, and I’ll be looking after the children, too. It’ll be fine. By my calculations, if we take off tomorrow, you’ll be settled down before Joey starts school.” 

“School!” 

He brought a hand to his forehead, feeling the world slip by the corner of his eyes, swirling, getting covered in darkness. If Dirk weren’t so reliable and stupidly intelligent, he didn’t know how he would ever be able to keep on going about adulthood by his lonesome. School! Joey was entering the age to enroll in year one and he hadn’t even thought about it. In fact, he had completely forgotten about it. If Dirk hadn’t mentioned it, he’d probably only notice that something concerning his parenting was off when the government showed up at his door, inquiring his child’s attendance to public school. He sighed. At this point, he’d let Dirk take the reigns of his life and lead it anywhere his better judgement saw fit. Jake wouldn’t even question it; he was clearly unsuited for making big life decisions. Dirk might as well do it for him, and put his life on the right track, sort of like a life coach that Jake slept with. A win for both parties. 

They managed to reassure Joey of the trip as well as put her back in bed, tuck her in, and return to the guest room without further trouble. Dirk finally put a shirt on before getting back into bed, and the more he disclosed the details of Jake’s long term future, the calmer Jake’s nerves became. It was truly soothing to hear one’s issues figured out by a third party who knew, with precision, what they were doing, and would put it all into motion when the time came. Jake didn’t know how he’d ever live without Dirk. 


	7. Love, the sweetest bond

“How are we all going to fit into your two-bachelor apartment with Dave living in there? Two bedrooms, one living room, and  _ five _ of us?” Jake sounded perplexed while fitting the luggage in the back of the taxi, Dirk helping him shove it all in place with strong hands and firm shoulders. They slammed the trunk door closed with enough force to make the taxi bounce. The driver, in response, stuck his head out of the driver’s window and glared at the two of them, but ultimately said nothing. Jake would tip him handsomely at the airport. 

“Joey can sleep on the futon, and Jude, well, we can get him a crib or something. Wait, fuck, we have an extra mattress under Dave’s bed that can be put on the floor by the futon. There, done. Problem solved.” 

They hopped into the taxi. 

“What will Dave think of it all?” He asked as they strolled through the mall-like hallways of the airport, walking right past every duty-free store and overpriced coffee shop, kids in hand and luggage in tow. 

Dirk shrugged. 

“He doesn’t pay rent, he doesn’t have the right to say anything.” 

Jake squinted at him. From what he remembered Dave telling him, Dirk was a much more loving brother than this comment made him out to be. Didn’t he let Dave stay with him indefinitely, paid for his tuition, and didn’t urge him into the working world until he was ready for it? Nothing short of a decent brother, but of course he’d hide that side of himself. Jake wasn’t surprised about that in the slightest. 

“Did you talk to him at all about this, so he at least knows what to expect this afternoon?” 

“I tried calling him today, hoping he’d be up at four in the morning, but he wasn’t. I’ll text him when we land.” 

“Who’s Dave?” Joey asked.

In reply to the question, Dirk talked about his brother until it was time to board. 

“I forgot to bid Jane farewell.” He spoke absently, ten kilometers from the surface of the Earth. His heart sunk with the reality of it. His oldest friend, who had supported him through thick and thin, forgotten, just like that. Left behind! He leaned back onto his seat, crestfallen. 

“You know you’re coming back to England at some point, right? We have to solve this whole mansion thing still, and move your belongings, the rest of your clothes, everything.” 

“Right…!” A second chance. 

The way Dirk said  _ we _ was empowering. It brought air back into his lungs and strength to his legs. In the end, he thought, he might actually be able to get through this. Life, in general. Everything and anything that it happened to throw at him from this point forward, Dirk could catch, while he cowered in the corner. Jake didn’t mind not being the protagonist of his own narrative. Life wasn’t about that. 

“What is this, again? Houston, Texas?” Joey asked. 

“Houston, Texas.” Dirk affirmed her, in his best impression of an exaggerated Texan accent. For as much as it always made Dirk cringe, Jake had to admit that the accent was a nice one to him, particularly. Either that, or maybe he was simply partial to Dirk’s voice, and birth town, and local accent, and the slight drawl that could be noticed in his speech every here and again, in a word or two, when he wasn’t thinking about it. Jake smiled. 

He wondered if Jude, growing up around American kids, would acquire Dirk’s accent. He wouldn’t be too upset if that happened, to be honest. Quite frankly, the thought was a nice one. 

“Golly, it sure is warm in Houston, Texas.” Joey commented as they waited outside for the shuttle. She had her gray jacket on, above a knitted sweater and a shirt, all to keep warm from the vicious cold that was the plane air conditioning system, and, now, under the twenty-degree shade of the outside, she sweated. Both Jake and Dirk helped her get rid of the jacket and sweater, putting those away in her little nurse bear backpack. 

“The sun is so bright! What time is it?” 

Dirk checked his phone. 

“Five-thirty.” 

“This is bonkers! It was day when we left home, and it’s still day here?” 

“Oh, Joey, timezones are in play and they’re confusing even for myself. It’s easier to pretend it’s all magic, and remember that time is made up.” Jake reassured her, getting an earnest nod in response. 

Dirk brought the phone to his ear. 

“Hey, Dave. Are you home?” Pause. “Yeah, it’s all cool. I just wanted to let you know that I’ll be there in the next half hour. Jake and his kids will be visiting for a while.” Pause. “Yeah. How’s the living room?” Pause. “Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll be there soon.” End of call. 

They took the shuttle downtown, and the metro to Dirk’s neighborhood, which wasn’t at all far from downtown itself, but with two children in hand and luggage to carry, they wouldn’t willingly choose the long route around: on foot. They took Joey on the trip of her life on the way to the apartment, and Jake couldn’t be more glad to see her have fun during the exhausting part. She was delighted with the metro system and infinitely grateful for the ice cream that Dirk bought her during the walk over. Jude, to their luck, had slept through most of it. 

Dirk’s apartment safe-like door had Joey intrigued, and as they entered the living room, her eyes shone. Not for any particular reason, since she had surely seen better looking places than this, but the excitement of the  _ new _ had her pirouetting about. The door closed silently behind the four of them to reveal both Dave and Karkat staring from the kitchen, as if paralyzed, even though they had been expecting this exact scenario for twenty-eight minutes. Maybe the sight was a lot more shocking than the mere thought of it. 

Joey trotted over to them first thing. 

“All right? I’m Joey Claire!” She extended a hand for Dave to take, which he gracefully shook. He was a far more delicate person than Jake had given him credit for. 

“Alright, Joey. I’m Dave.” The boy spoke while motioning to himself, then pointing to the troll beside him. “This is Karkat.” 

“How do you do, Karkat?” She shook the troll’s hand as well, seemingly unaware of his very visible discomfort. 

“I’m good, thank you.” 

When Karkat looked back up, his eyes immediately came across Jake’s, locked in an awkwardly wide stare that neither one of them could manage to break for several odd seconds. Only Dirk, moving from behind the couch and over to the hallway, happened to get their attention by complete accident, undoing this awkward thing, whatever it had been. Jake was glad it was over. 

“C’mon, let’s drop the luggage in my room.” 

Following Dirk down the hallway to the very last door felt as if a voyage back in time. Jake couldn’t remember just how many times exactly he had been pulled by the hand, by the waist, the wrist, with lips against his own and messy feet shuffling about, only steering clear from stepping on the other’s toes by a miracle, down this very hallway, and onto the bedsheets that he had grown so familiar with. In retrospect, meeting Dirk at all had been a miracle of and by itself. Jake hadn’t deserved that in the slightest. 

Dirk laid Jude’s sleeping body down on the bed and placed the luggage at the foot of it, alongside Jake’s, in a pile of bags. On the meanwhile, Jake took the opportunity to glance about, since he hadn’t been here in a good, long minute, and things had changed. There were no more posters on the walls, no more clutter at the corners of the room, and, instead, more mechanical parts everywhere. More computer screens, less unfinished robots. Dirk’s setup had doubled and his workbench had expanded. The walls had shelves on them, the floors had been ripped off of carpet, and the window had a thicker, heavier curtain over it. Only the bed and closet seemed to have stayed the same. 

Dirk pulled his shirt off overhead all of a sudden and Jake’s attention recentered immediately. 

“I’m taking a shower.” Dirk explained, dropping the shirt aside and kicking off his shoes. 

Jake didn’t even have the decency to pretend not to mind that, or be interested in any way, while Dirk literally stripped in front of him. His own cheeks colored, and his brows lifted, but he remained otherwise composed. Noticeably, Dirk had outgrown his personal struggle with form and exposure. Ten years ago, he wouldn’t roam the apartment shirtless if it was thirty-five degrees out. Wouldn’t remove it to the audience of one if Jake didn’t do it for him. Absolutely hated it when Jake kissed down his chest, halfway going down on him, to the brightness of his own room in the middle of a blazing afternoon. Now, bigger and bulkier and literally, physically, probably also mentally stronger, Dirk didn’t seem to care. Either that, or he had finally mastered the blank façade of aloofness. 

Jake stepped aside to let Dirk walk to the closet, at the far end of the room. He watched the muscles of Dirk’s back and the shape of his ass, hugged so nicely by his underwear, cross the room and disappear into the closet. Jake guessed it was a walk-in now, so even the closet had truly changed. He shook his head. 

“Since when are you so…” The sentence trailed off as he motioned vaguely with a hand, unseen, while Dirk remained hidden in the closet. He dropped that hand down. 

“So what?” Dirk asked, muffled. 

“Such a sybarite, I suppose.” 

“A sybarite?” Dirk walked back out with nothing in hand, just a partially hidden frown on his forehead. “Where did that come from?” 

“I just recall more than one memory of you being squeamish about undressing in general, specially with me in the premises.” 

Dirk rolled his eyes. Jake could tell it with precision in the slight turn of his head and the parting of his lips. 

“That wasn’t me being shy, it was me being a literal virgin. Can’t you tell the difference?”

“I can tell it now.” 

Dirk shook his head, crossed the room over to the door and brought the shirt from the floor with himself. Jake watched him leave with only one thought in his head, that he wasn’t surprised to learn that. It actually explained everything, and, now, with this information, he didn’t know how he hadn’t realized it before. Of course he had been Dirk’s first, and of course Dirk loved him because of that. It had never been said, but it needn’t have. The exposure was in Dirk’s actions, every single one of them. How much he cared for Jake was truly touching, and the thought of it made Jake feel that much worse for every inconsiderate stunt pulled in the past, just how much of a bloody idiot he had been. The memories made him sick with himself. He should never have hurt Dirk in the first place. 

Thinking back on that now, he wasn’t sure why he had done it. He had never considered Dirk a real partner, or what they had had as a real relationship. The way he had seen it, they were just having fun together, no strings attached. The concept of homosexuality hadn’t been foreign to him as much as he simply hadn’t attached himself to it, not on a personal level. Sure, he had slept with a man consistently for four years, but that didn’t make him gay. He still loved women, and went out with women, and had looked for a relationship with a woman for the whole of those four years, proving that fact. If anything, he had thought of himself as a straight man who very frequently slept with his best friend. Not a big deal! He wasn’t falling in love, not back then. That only happened a handful of years later. 

Or, so, he thought. In reality, he just had never stopped to notice how much his eyes used to linger on Dirk’s face when he thought that Dirk wasn’t looking, how much kissing Dirk in the morning actually meant the start of a good day, how much waking up next to him filled Jake’s lungs with an unexplained, completely unidentified feeling of joy that put a smile on his face and had him burying his nose in Dirk’s hair. How bright he grinned when Dirk arrived home from class and how smothering him in hugs and kisses had been the epitome of his happiness. He knew, now, what all of that had been about. Where all of it had sprung from, and it hadn’t been friendship. 

He leaned his back on the wall. A relationship, a real, concise, adult relationship with a man. Why had that been such an impossible thought back then? What had made him so blind to it? Was he prejudiced against his own kind? He must’ve been, it all pointed to it. He had never considered Dirk his partner for being a man, and since he was  _ straight…  _ He wasn’t straight. As it turned out, being attracted to a man didn’t make him very straight at all. His heart skipped. He wasn’t straight? Obviously not! The realization hit him as something that he had always known, but also something entirely alien to him. Not new, but more alike a lamp that had always been in the corner of the room, under a cloth, that he had never bothered to uncover, because he knew what it was, it was very obvious what it was, even if he had never actively acknowledged it. Not until now, and pulling the cloth felt dreadfully cathartic, a scary kind of good, because now he knew, and now he had to do something about it. Something that he didn’t know what was. 

In the living room, Joey, Dave and Karkat were sitting side-by-side on the couch, having a conversation that Jake’s ears were deaf to. His thoughts were turned up far too loud, and his head was filled with too much for anything else to fit inside. He walked right past them into the kitchen and had himself a glass of water. 

He wasn’t straight. Why was that so upsetting? 

“Jake.” 

At Dirk’s voice, he turned. Dirk was in the center of the room, in his pajama pants, a tank top taut across his chest. When had he gotten back to Dirk’s room? Dirk snapped two fingers to get his attention. 

“Earth to Jake, I’m  _ talking _ to you.” 

“Oh, my sincerest apologies. I haven’t been listening.” 

“Yeah.” Dirk sounded annoyed. The overhead light was on and it was dark outside. This felt like a dream, almost. Jake had mentally teleported. 

“You haven’t.” 

“I’m sorry.” He tried again, getting up from the bed with no memory of having sat down on it. Actually, no. He remembered. They were just about to go to sleep. “I just realized something and it’s stricken me rather dumb. I can’t stop thinking about it, can’t come to terms with it. Have I come to terms with it? I might’ve come to terms with it before I even knew about it. Remarkable.” 

“What is it?” Dirk’s voice was stale and dull but Jake still found himself being drawn to it. Ah, ah, he was in deep. He was in deep. How deplorable! There was no denying it, now. He loved Dirk Strider to the infinitesimal detail. 

“I’m not hetero.” 

Dirk raised a brow. “Yeah, you’ve never been.” 

“I can’t believe it.” 

“Seriously?” 

He sat back down onto the bed, a hand up to his forehead. So this was how he had ended up in this position a minute ago. 

“Jake, are you actually surprised that you’re not a heterosexual? At twenty-nine years old, and after, I don’t know, sleeping with me about a hundred times?” 

“Well, this isn’t something I think about often. This is… This is… Oh, it’s life-changing. It makes me want to go back in time eight years and tell it to you then.” 

“I already knew it.” 

He shot up from the bed, his lungs suddenly filled with air, his cheeks full of life. He hadn’t heard a single word that Dirk had said just now, his mind working fast, enveloping itself with thoughts and remade memories.

“If I knew it then, I would’ve stayed with you. I would’ve kissed you, I would’ve married you, I would’ve made a home of this second-hand apartment with you, I’d never have left. Dirk, you would’ve been enough.” 

Dirk’s brows raised, but he didn’t say anything. His porcelain face remained motionless as if a photograph, staring, surely, through the shades. Jake’s words had hit hard, he could see it in how tense Dirk’s shoulders had become, how the color had drained from his skin. Paralyzed speechless.

“I’m sorry for being such an idiot. For not seeing the obvious and hurting you because of it. Because I was such a buffoon!” He shook his head, brows knit in vexation at himself. Always at himself. “How can I make it up to you?” 

It took a heartbeat for Dirk to come out of the trance and shook his head with minute movements. From a distance, it looked as if he hadn’t moved at all. 

“You can’t. Just move on.” 

No. “No!” Of course not. There must’ve been a way, there must’ve been something he could do. There must’ve been a way to mend a broken heart, and he’d do anything for it. Anything. He closed the distance between them with hasteful strides, stopping before Dirk, both palms on his arms, holding onto his elbows. “Tell me what I can do. Tell me how I can fix this.” 

“You can’t fix the past, Jake. What’s done is done.” 

“But you’re giving me a second chance, are you not?” 

Dirk blinked. 

“Yeah.” 

Jake grinned. 

“But that’s because I’m a fucking idiot.” Dirk continued, pushing past Jake and over to the bed. “Trusting you with anything is synonymous to setting myself up for failure.” 

“Not this time, not this once! I can be with you now and I’ll try to disappoint you only the least I possibly can.” 

“What was stopping you before?” 

“Why, you know. My, erm… Bogus heterosexuality.” 

Dirk rolled his eyes before getting in bed, a clear indication that the subject was over and wasn’t supposed to be revived, so Jake didn’t. He let it die, and happily joined Dirk in bed, pulling him into both arms as he did so, seizing Dirk’s broad frame into a hug. Dirk pushed him off some, but not much, only the enough to loosen an arm to remove the shades with and flick the overhead light off. Jake watched bright orange eyes stare up at the switch for the fraction of a second before darkness consumed the both of them. 

“Dirk.” He said, easily, his tone smaller now, softer to fit in with the premise of falling asleep. He moved a hand to touch Dirk’s face with, a palm spread across his cheek. 

“What?” 

“You’re enough.” 

No response. 

In the silence, he swiped a thumb across Dirk’s cheek bone, whispering now. 

“I’m so glad you’re here.” 

Dirk closed the small distance between them with a kiss. 

 

Epilogue

 

> October.

 

“Are you going to miss this place, Joey?” Dirk asked while bringing a few of the heavier boxes downstairs, Jake in tow with a couple of his own stacked up both arms, and Joey following close behind, carrying some of her stuffed animals to her chest. She glanced about herself once, at the empty stairway and the even emptier living room that they descended to, looking mostly uninterested. 

“No. It’s but an empty space, now.”

“Even more horrendous without the decor hanging on the walls and cluttering the hallways. I’m appalled to think that we used to live here, that  _ I _ used to walk in through those double doors, take a gander, and think to myself that it was all acceptable.” Jake clicked his tongue, following Dirk outside to the lawn, across of which a moving truck was parked up to the curb. Joey towed along. 

“It was fine to me. I only didn’t like my bedroom, is all.” 

“Well, lucky for you, in the new house, you can choose which bedroom will be yours.” Dirk promised. That brought a shine to Joey’s black little eyes. 

“Really? Oh, tell me you’re not joking! Pa! Is that to be so?” 

“Yes, Joey, I believe Dirk is quite right about that.” 

Joey squealed with the happiness of a hundred children on Christmas day. 

 

> December.

 

The wide veranda atop the ground floor of Roxy’s mansion was lightly populated by a few of the most glamorous people that America had to offer, comprising some of her closest friends, all dressed up in expensive wool and imported coats, wearing the finest of Parisian perfumes and Swiss jewelry to celebrate New Year under a fine firework shower. The balcony overlooked most of Houston, and the more festive clubs that usually put on a good show for their celebrations, the nearby golf club for one, and the athletics club not too far from that, as well. The adults clinked their champagne glasses together, laughed politely at each other’s decadent jokes, and filled themselves with over-seasoned shrimp while the children ate macaroons and tried not to run around too much. The balustrade wasn’t very intensely child-proofed for that. 

“How many minutes now, Rose?” Joey asked between small bites of her macaroon. Rose, pulling out a purple wristwatch from her little bag, consulted it. 

“Two.” 

At the answer, Joey turned to the two adults by her, who happened to be just a tad bit too into the champagne passing around on silver trays. Dirk knocked back the rest of his glass before Joey addressed him. 

“Will you be kissing Pa when the clock hits twelve?” 

Dirk licked his lips and passed Jake a glance behind the shades. The dim outdoorsy lighting did little to hide his eyes, and the uplighters lining the edges of the veranda gave him entirely away from this angle. Jake bounced his brows once, in response to the leer.

“Do you think I should, Joey?” 

“I think you should, Dirk, and Rose agrees with me, yes?” 

“Oh, absolutely.” 

“Then it’s decided.” 

Jake offered him a lazy smile at that, half affectionate from the alcohol, half affectionate from the simple fact that Dirk effortlessly and consistently, time and time again, proved to have been the greatest choice that Jake had ever made, and that, by itself, put a warmth to his heart that no amount of alcohol content ever would. Drunk and in love, he leaned forward, sealing their lips together. Chaste, but heartfelt; Dirk grinned into the kiss. 

“You’re early!” Joey informed the two of them, and, even though his eyes were closed, he could hear the smile on her words. 

 

> February.

 

With a tall glass of water in hand, he crossed the upstairs hallway down to the last door at the very end of it. Numerous boxes were still stacked over each other on the ground floor, a couple under the windows that lined the corridor, and some in the individual rooms that composed different ambients, mostly the library and his and Dirk’s bedroom. Between rearranging an entire house and Joey’s bedroom by themselves, they had forgotten their very own room. That had been one of the most parent-like things that Jake had ever seen himself do, and having Dirk mindlessly accompany him on that one had been unprecedented, but welcome. Eight months in, and Dirk was becoming more of a father than he had ever been himself. 

As he passed by Dave and Karkat’s room, door open and overhead light on, he bid them goodnight, receiving an echo back twofold from happy faces on tired bodies. Carrying the belongings of two bedrooms up a gorgeous set of stairs for an entire day did that to a person. With Karkat’s influence, Jake would’ve believed that their shared room would’ve looked better, more organized than Dave’s old, personal bedroom back at the apartment, but, apparently, not. Apparently, Karkat was as much of a disorganized boy as Dave was, and their room was just about an extension of the mess of two people now. At least, Jake hoped it’d look a little better within the next two weeks. 

He hoped that, but he literally had no morals to speak of to even think that in the first place. The old manor had been more than necessary proof of that. 

Joey’s room was up next, the door was also open and the lights were on, but, as he approached it, he didn’t immediately go in. Hers and Dirk’s hushed voices had him pausing on his tracks to listen in instead, his breathing quiet, and his ears perked, as not to give himself away. Their little conversations were Jake’s favorites, always managing to put a smile to his face, and, for as much as listening in probably wasn’t very ethical, he couldn’t help just how much he loved it, in this specific case. Seeing how well his daughter and his best friend got along brought him immeasurable joy. 

“Dirk, may I ask you something?” Joey’s little voice echoed from inside the bedroom. 

“Of course, Joey. Is this blanket alright?” 

“Oh, it’s fantastic, thank you! I, well. I’ve been wondering… Sit over here.” A pause. “Let me take your hand.” Another pause, longer this time around. 

“What’s on your mind?” Dirk asked.

“I was just thinking, you know… How you and Pa are in love, but you’re not married. You haven’t a ring, while  _ he _ does, and that simply doesn’t sit right with me.” 

Jake passed a brief glance down at his left hand, at the ring finger that no longer had a ring on it, that, in fact, hadn’t carried one in months. He slipped that hand into the pockets of his pajama bottoms and listened. 

“Are you saying we should get married because I need a ring?” 

“Quite! It’d look gorgeous on your hand, no? And, well…” Here, Joey sounded sheepish, almost shy. “That way, you’ll be my daddy, too, and I’d love that immensely. I really would.” 

“Your daddy?” 

The way Dirk asked that sounded like a deadpan statement more than a question. Jake’s brows raised.

“Yes, my daddy! My beautiful, strong, American daddy. I would love that so very much, Dirk. Please marry my Pa.” 

A short silence followed, broken by more of Joey’s pleading voice. 

“Please? Pretty please, Dirk Strider?”

“Well, Joey Claire, if you want me to be your dad, you can just ask me. I don’t need to marry your father for that.” 

“Oh, really? Are you quite sure?” 

“I’m pretty sure.” 

“Then… Will you be my dad, Dirk? Will you?” 

“Yeah, of course.” 

Jake peeked into the room to see Joey leaping onto Dirk for a hug. 

 

> April.

 

Parents came and went from the school gates, navigating with intense difficulty through the dozens of children that flooded past, and out, onto the pavement, toward their assigned buses, some of them running to their parents instead. There had been some sort of parent-teacher meeting here today that neither one of them had been invited to, which explained the abundance of parents, more so than there usually were about during rush hour, and gave Jake the opportunity to see some of the parents behind a few of the children that Joey casually spoke of. The short one from her class whose favorite color was blue had a mother that Jake would never have imagined, the chubby one who drew well had a very, very old father, the Hispanic one that liked cats had a troll sitter pick them up. Jake people-watched beside Dirk while Joey didn’t show. 

“Are you still mad at me?” He asked in a quiet tone, indicating secrecy, but not turning to face Dirk for it. His eyes were roaming the sea of children and refused to tear away until Joey should surface from it. 

“No.” Dirk replied, curt as all Hell, in the way that he obviously still held a grudge or two over the issue. Jake side-stepped closer to him in response to that, bumping him on the shoulder to lighten the mood. 

“I apologized all day today, love. What else do you want from me?” 

“I said I’m not mad at you.” 

“But you are.” 

“If I were, I would’ve told you.” 

“Then why are you acting like a total knob?”

“Because I’m pissed, not mad. You knew how important it was for us to be there for her and you  _ still _ made us miss the ballet.” 

“I’m--”

“Shut up, Jake. Stop apologizing to me and apologize to Joey instead. This kind of shit is important, man. You have to be there for her. You have to show that you care.” 

“I do! I care!” 

“Then make a fucking effort.” 

“I  _ am,  _ it’s just that I thought we’d have time. I thought the ballet wouldn’t start until eight.” 

“Yeah, I’m so glad you read the flyer wrong and then fucking threw it away before telling me the wrong time to be there. That really was something. You surpassed yourself with that one.” 

“Stop! You know I’m not good with numbers or retaining information! It wasn’t my fault.” 

“Yes, actually, it absolutely was your fault.” 

Joey popped out of the entrance doors and started crossing the front yard over to the gates. They had about two minutes to end this argument before she would be close enough to hear them. 

“Look, Dirk, yes, I really did throw a spinner in the works, I admit that, now, please, can we move on from this? You’re more upset about missing the ballet than Joey is that we didn’t show.” 

“I’m pissed, Jake, because she thinks  _ I _ didn’t care to show, when, in truth,  _ you _ didn’t care to know the right time, or call the school to make sure that we weren’t running two hours late.” 

“She’s past this, Dirk. She said so that it was fine, now move on, mate!” 

“Yeah, after crying for two fucking hours. Does that seem like everything’s fine to you?” Dirk sighed out his vexation, bringing a hand up to run through his hair, but not too far into it as not to ruin the perfect styling. “Jake, I’ve only been in her life for a few months. I can’t afford to fuck up so early on.” 

He frowned. Joey was nearly at the gate. 

“Trust me, Dirk. Next to me, you’re picture perfect.” 

Dirk’s shades shone in his direction, but no words accompanied that. Joey approached them and hugged Dirk’s legs for a greeting. 

 

> June.

 

He pushed Dirk onto the wall, lips mashed together, chests glued to one another, and hands grabbing at each other’s bodies, waist, hips, torso, anything, everything, running up and down skin, pulling the other impossibly closer with strong grips and blunt nails. He bit Dirk’s lips and swallowed his tongue, breathing in the same air, feeling him up to personal fancy, hands on his stomach and thigh on his crotch. They kissed so fervently, so ardently, that it seemed as if they hadn’t just done this last night, after the kids had gone to bed, and the afternoon before that, too, while Joey was at school and the lovebirds that didn’t pay rent watched over Jude. 

Moving to America had drastically changed his sex life and, honestly, he wasn’t about to go back now. 

 

> July.

 

“Daddy, dekko!” Joey ran across the living room, from where she had been drawing on the coffee table to the porch out back, overlooking the pool and garden, where Dirk was fiddling with one of his robots, taking it for a test run or something of the sort. Jake literally never knew with these things, no matter how many times Dirk explained the basics of electric engineering to him. He ended up always finding himself getting lost in the low timbre of Dirk’s voice instead of actually paying attention. 

Outside, Joey handed Dirk a sheet of paper, one of her drawings. Dirk took it with a straight face, then broke a grin down at her. 

“Are these all of us?” 

“Yes! It’s the whole family at the wedding, see the arch, here? And the rings? Will there be an arch, actually?” 

“We haven’t decided that yet, but would you like one?” 

“Very much so!” 

“Then I might convince Jake to get it.” 

“Merci, merci beaucoup! Are we really waiting one whole year? Why can’t it be this summer?” 

“And whip out a wedding in a month?” 

“Why not? Auntie Roxy is the best at throwing parties, I’m certain she can throw a wedding, too!” 

“You’re probably right about that, but special things should take some special planning, don’t you agree? Your Pa and I kind of want to sit down and talk about this ourselves before deciding anything with anyone.” 

Joey tilted her head to the side in consideration of his answer. 

“I suppose… May I help with the colors, then? I gave you an orange tie in my drawing.” 

“I saw that, and I really like it. You gave Jake a green one.” 

“Because it’s his favorite color!” 

Dirk smiled. 

“Can I keep this?” 

His question put a bright grin on Joey’s round little face. 

“Surely! It’s all yours, daddy.” 

Dirk placed a hand on the side of Joey’s head and pulled her a step closer, leaning down to put a kiss in her hair. That had her giggling. 

“Thank you, bug.” 

Jake found himself smiling without realizing it. 

 

> May.

 

Dave adjusted his tie once more, his trembling hands making this a worse experience than it had to be, and giving him a wholly avoidable hard time with it. His face looked red, as if overheated, and there was sweat on his brow. His hands nearly undid the bow by accident, so Jake stepped in to aid him in that regard. He slapped the kid’s hands away and fixed the tie as it should’ve looked in the first place. Dave was barely breathing. 

“You good, mate?” He asked, sincerely worried for the boy. There was no visual response from Dave at that, only stale words that didn’t go with his obvious anxiety in the slightest. 

“I’m nervous. I’ve never been to a wedding before, much less my brother’s, much less one where I’m part of the ceremony. I don’t think I can do this. I’ll drop the rings, Jake, I can see that very, very clearly in my head. You should’ve asked Karkat to do it. He wouldn’t drop anything, he’s, like, trained for this. For things like this.” 

“Breathe, Dave, you’ll do wonderfully. No need to be nervous, it’ll only be the six of us, Roxy, Rose and Jane in the room. Well, and the magistrate, whom you don’t know, but that’s a single, outnumbered person. Do you know Jane?” 

“Yeah, I met her a couple of weeks ago, when she came over to visit a while. She baked the best cake I’ve ever had.” 

“Oh, yes, she tends to do that with new acquaintances.” 

There was a light knock on the door that made the two turn to face it, and watch Dirk open it some, but not walk in. He stood at the doorway, holding onto the knob, only partially showing from the open gap. Despite the fitter’s opinions, the gray bespoke suit looked excellent with the orange tie, specially on Dirk’s body, a swell color to go with the sandy blonde of his hair. 

“Dave, you forgot the rings.” 

Dave’s breathing literally ceased. 

“But Karkat brought them for you, so get them with him before the ceremony begins. You have a few minutes.” 

Dave took a step back, swaying, nearly fainting. Jake held out a palm near his back, just in case he happened to topple over, but that ended up not being of necessary use. Dave remained on his feet, and promptly walked over to the door, still swaying a bit, on very obvious wobbly legs. He pulled the leaf entirely open to leave, so Dirk stepped aside to let him out, walking into the room as a result of it. The door naturally closed behind Dave after he disappeared past it. 

Jake grinned at his fiancé. 

“Are you nervous?” He asked. It was Dirk’s first wedding, after all. He, himself, had been through this whole song and dance once before, so he knew what to expect, and wasn’t completely freaking out minutes before the ceremony this time around. That was enough to have him composed at the moment, but not any short of joy or excitement. He couldn’t wait to kiss Dirk in front of everyone. 

“Not nervous, just… Glad. Thrilled. Like, this is finally happening.” 

“Finally, really? You’ve never once mentioned this sort of thing to me before, I’m sure of it. In fact, from what I could gather, you’ve always kind of been anti-marriage up until last year. What changed, love?” 

“Nothing. I’ve never been anti-marriage, I was just terrified of letting you know that I’d have married you in a heartbeat if you had proposed to me on the first day that we met, so I never said anything.” 

His heart skipped a beat, a smile slowly graced his lips. 

He didn’t know it was possible to fall further in love than he already was. 

“Am I quite right to assume that this is your dream come true, then?” 

“Yeah, actually. You’re very right to assume that.” 

He stepped forward. It didn’t matter that he was about to do this again not five minutes from now, he still slipped a palm round the back of Dirk’s neck and leaned to kiss him, soft lips on a soft smile that would always have his heart beating just that much faster. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> December is my favorite and July made me cry. Thank you so, so much for reading.


End file.
